Of Poems and Quidditch
by A Graton
Summary: Story Two of the Pentagram Points Series.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Throw the Quaffle!"

"Answer my question!"

"Wood, throw the Quaffle or I'll knock you off your broom!"

The green-eyed boy stared at his brown-eyed Quidditch mate. "That's not it."

She rolled her eyes, hovering ten feet away from him. "The Hawkshead Formation?"

His large, toothy smile appeared on his face. "Excellent." He tossed the Quaffle at her. She gripped the end of her Clean Sweep and jolted it upward toward it. With both legs gripping the body of her broom, she reached her arms out and grabbed the flying ball. She tucked it under her arm, dodging underneath Harry and zooming down the pitch.

"Ginny!" he called.

She skidded to a halt and turned her broom around. "What?" she yelled.

He beckoned her to come near and she flew close to him. Their brooms were right next to each other. She tossed the Quaffle to him and stared at him inquisitively. "What?"

Harry was suddenly flustered. This wasn't something either of them usually came up with each other. Not anymore, at least.

"I-just-uh," he looked away and found two familiar heads walking to the field below them.

"Is that Ron and Hermione?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Don't you mean RonandHermione?" Harry said, rolling his eyes. The moment was broken, much to his relief. He turned away from Ginny and headed toward the ground.

Ron looked up and smiled at Harry. Hermione had a book shoved under her arm, but she wasn't reading it. One of her hands was clasped tightly in Ron's. Broad smiles were fixed on their faces, as if they were enjoying a hysterical private joke.

"What's happening, mate?" Ron greeted happily. Harry could tell right off that the angst Ron and Hermione had dealt with in their period of struggling had been worth it. To see the smiles on their faces was to know it had been worth all the tears.

"Just practicing," he answered. "What are you doing out here?"

Hermione answered this time. "We got bored in the common room and decided to come outside."

Ron nudged her. "You lie!" he looked back at Harry and said playfully, "_I_ convinced her to stop studying and spend time with me!" He watched her open her mouth to protest, but he answered before she could. "I can't believe you'd rather spend time with Arithmancy: The Advanced Study of Divinatory Numbers than your own boyfriend!"

"I had full intentions of spending time with you today!"

"When? When you finished reading page five thousand three hundred forty-two for the six thousandth five hundredth¯"

"Trouble in paradise already?" came Ginny's voice from above Harry's head. She was smiling mischievously at the pair. "It's only day two. You've got a while before you start patronizing each other."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Virginia Weasley! Watch your tongue! This is _Ron_ and _Hermione_. The patronizing started before they knew each other's names."

The four laughed heartily as Harry rejoined Ginny and Ron and Hermione took seats on the grass by the stands. Harry consistently threw unexpected questions to Ginny to make sure she had been studying up on Quidditch. It was like he always said (and the saying Ginny loved to mock), 'A good Quidditch player knows how to play. A great Quidditch player has knowledge of the game.'

Every so often, Harry and Ginny would stop midair to watch Ron and Hermione snogging on the snowy ground. Ginny lifted her wand three or four times but Harry had stopped her before she could conjure a private rainstorm or some kind of distraction.

"Haven't they been through enough?" Harry pointed out, laughing all the while.

It was true. Ginny had seen it firsthand. Ron and Hermione had gone through such an ordeal during the Christmas season because of the way they felt about each other, that it was only fair they be allowed to spend uninterrupted time together.

"You're such a prat, Wood."

"I can't help it, Miss J. Are you ready to take it in for the day?"

"All too ready," she said, rolling her eyes, following him to the ground.

They bounced off of their brooms and raced each other off the pitch and over toward Ron and Hermione. It looked as though she had conjured up a blanket for them to lay on. Ron was on his back, trying to take a nap, while Hermione had her head propped on Ron's chest, reading.

"Done so soon?" Ron asked, not opening his eyes.

"Well, yes, actually. Harry's decided not to be tyrannical today and he's letting me go in sooner." This comment earned Ginny a sharp jab to the shoulder.

Ron opened his eyes and screwed up his face into confusion. "He's not being… a tyrannosaurus… what?"

"It means he's not being a 'Wood,' " Hermione piped up, still reading.

Ron rolled his eyes, pointing at Hermione's head, mouthing to Harry and Ginny, 'know-it-all.'

"I saw that."

Ginny shook her head and turned around to walk back into the castle. Harry didn't realize he was standing by himself until Ginny was nearly inside. He ran to catch up with her.

"J! Wait a sec!"

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face Harry. He was running toward her, broom still in hand. "Wait! Wait! Where are you going?"

"Well, I was going to hit the showers and then go study. Why?"

"Because," he stopped and looked around. There it was again, that strange feeling that he couldn't find the right words to say. This feeling had been increasing in his Quidditch practices. He specifically remembered one day before a practice he had caught Ginny's eye and had been unable to speak for the next ten minutes.

She stared at him expectantly. "Because… I don't want to be left out here with the Amazing Angsters," he said, a slight grin showing on his face.

Ginny couldn't help but be entranced by his smile. She was sure that she had gotten over her crush on the famous Harry Potter two years before. He was always around Ron, and she was always with Hermione, so it was inevitable that what was left of her crush would disappear. It had… for the most part.

Then Ginny Weasley, little Virginia Weasley, had tried out for Quidditch. She could hear her brothers' encouraging words in her ears.

__

_"Go on, Gin! You've got the natural grace of a Chaser. You have to try out!"_

__

_"I can't believe you can fly like that!"_

__

_"You _are_ trying out aren't you?"_

__

_"Did you know she could fly like that?"_

__

_"She has to try out. She'll have to compensate for Ron's not wanting to try out."_

__

_"I can't even fly like that!"_

__

_"Really? We hadn't noticed."_

__

_" HEY!"_

Ginny laughed to herself as she remembered the day Fred, George, and Ron had invited her to play Quidditch. They were the only four there for the summer holidays. She had been flying everywhere, unbeknownst to her brothers. Her 'natural grace' came from months of practice.

It also pleased her to see that Harry had been made Captain in his sixth year. He deserved it very much, and she got along with him well enough for it to be a fun experience on the team. The first few practices had been demanding, but she was a bright girl who caught on quickly.

That was what Harry said, at least.

"Ginny? Are you going into the castle?"

Ginny flew back to reality and stared at Harry. "What?"

"Are you going back into the castle or are you going to stand there and pick mental daisies?"

She shook off her fog and glared at Harry. "You're mad," she turned around and walked into the castle. Harry didn't follow. He instead sat down and watched as Ginny walked away from him. His eyes glazed over as he started to reflect his sixth year at Hogwarts.

The vow he had made to himself and with Ron and Hermione was holding strong. He had decided that his sixth year was going to go well. This year he was going to try to live as normally as possible while working for The Order secretly all the while. He promised himself he wasn't going to worry himself constantly with Voldemort as he had the previous year. He hadn't gotten any sleep because of it and the year had been the longest one he'd ever spent at Hogwarts.

He was determined to get it right this year. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had met at Diagon Alley before school started, where Harry had taken both of them aside and told them the promise he had made to himself, and the one he wanted them all to keep. They would only talk about Voldemort when it was truly necessary. They wouldn't fret over things they had no control over anymore.

Harry had a lot on his mind, but it wasn't going to weigh him down. Not this year. Not to be conceited, but he _was _the famous Harry Potter. He had defeated Voldemort in many different ways on various occasions. Allowing _him_ to take over his thoughts and consume him from head to toe was not an option. This year… there was no way.

Again his eyes fixed on the spot where Ginny had been standing. Then there was Ginny. It had been obvious from fifth year on that Ron and Hermione were destined to end up together. Harry had (for lack of a better term) foreseen it. Though Hermione had not returned Ron's affection for a while, it was still inevitable. He had known that he was eventually going to lose his two best friends to each other.

Ginny and Hermione had begun to grow very close during his fifth year. For almost five years, it had been the infamous trio but since Ginny tagged along so frequently, they gradually became a foursome. Granted there were the occasional sibling bouts between Ginny and Ron where one would not speak to other. There were more frequent times however when it was Ron and Hermione, but these fights were always much easier to deal with.

Harry had developed quite an affinity toward the youngest Weasley. He felt the overwhelming need to protect her. Protecting was the last thing Ginny Weasley needed, though. She had six older brothers and was turning into quite an independent teenager. It pleased him immensely that she had gotten past the point of turning red every time he looked at her. She was now a lot of fun to be around.

Which was what made his new position as Captain that much more bearable. He had been elected Captain the previous year and he was so nervous about it that season that he could barely speak. Of course, all nervousness had been vanquished when he saw Ginny fly the first time.

His jaw had already dropped when Ron informed him he wouldn't be trying out for the team. Reasons for this were unknown to Ron at the time but utterly obvious to Harry.

_"I just don't…" casting a glance at Hermione quickly, "feel like it."_

But seeing the long, flaming red hair was enough to jerk him to reality. It was obvious that _all_ the Weasleys were great fliers. He was sure in his heart of hearts that even _Percy _could manage a broomstick if he chose to. He had not expected the pure talent Ginny exhibited after having been friendly with her for an entire year before.

Being Captain in his sixth year was causing a bit of anxiety in the young man. Yet his nervousness had vanished when he saw Ginny on the pitch. It was obvious that this was _their_ year. _His and Ginny's time to shine._

This woke Harry with a start. "WHAT?"

"I don't know! What?"

Harry spun around to face his best friends staring at him, puzzled. "Are you going into the castle or are you going to sit there and rake mental leaves?"

Hermione's brows furrowed together as she mouthed the last few words Ron had said. Harry shook his head, standing up. "You know, mate, I spend far too much time with you than is good for me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Now if we follow this diagram, Ravenclaw doesn't stand a chance! Are we ready?"

Enthusiastic replies came from the other six players. Ginny, however, was the first on her feet. She stood next to Harry supportively. "He didn't hear you, mates! ARE YOU READY?"

They all screamed this time, jumping to their feet and huddling up for a group chant. They jogged out of the locker room, Harry staring at Ginny admiringly. He couldn't help but notice that if it was one of them, it was only given a half effort. But when the two of them got together, there was no stopping them.

That was what made them such great Quidditch players.

The team made their way out to the field. Harry and the Captain of the Ravenclaw team shook hands. Mounting their brooms, they kicked off into the air. The crowd cheered so loudly that Harry was sure his ears would start bleeding. Ginny smiled at him from a distance and she did a few dips on her broom before the teams flew to the circle, waiting for the game to begin.

Before any of them knew it, the Snitch flew out of the box and away into the distance, the Bludgers erupted from the case, and the Quaffle was in the air. Ginny's sole purpose was to have that red leather ball in her arms.

Ginny wasn't even thinking when she came up behind the first Ravenclaw Chaser and bunched the ball out of the crook of his arm. She watched it fly just into her grasp as she reached out and caught it. A smile of triumph on her face, she saw one of the other Gryffindor Chasers, Andrew Shelley, steer up ahead of her. Tossing the Quaffle forward, she saw Andrew grab it and duck below her. She raced quickly toward the hoops and caught the Quaffle unexpectedly, sliding it through the right hoop before the Ravenclaw Keeper had a chance to realize what was happening.

"Ginny Weasley scores! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

The crowds cheered loudly. Ginny could see the boy with the black hair and glasses wave at her down the field. He was still in his mad search for the Snitch but had time to stop and watch her goal. This pleased her very much.

The Quaffle ended up in the hands of a Ravenclaw Chaser before Ginny had a chance to look away from Harry. She shook off the fog in her head and got back to the game. She leaned forward and shot after the Chaser. He released the Quaffle to one of his teammates up the field and Ginny halted in the air. The Chaser he had thrown it to was right next to one of Gryffindor's Beaters, a third year named Carly Stevens. She was fortunate enough to be the owner of a Nimbus 2001, which was an older model compared to Harry's Firebolt, but still ranked high in agility and speed. She ducked underneath the Chaser and then advanced on him so quickly that he had to look around when she took the Quaffle.

Ginny saw her opportunity and sped up to get back to the posts. Carly threw the Quaffle at Andrew, who happened to be speeding by right at that moment and tossed it off to Ginny. She scored again.

"Ginny Weasley scores another ten points for Gryffindor!"

All Ginny could see was a sea of red and gold flags and scarves all over the place. She smiled at the crowd and heard behind her, "Good game, J."

Her red ponytail whapped her in the face as she swiveled her head to see Harry speeding by. It looked like he was having trouble finding the snitch.

Harry tried to get out of Ginny's way as soon as possible. Having her on the team was a great advantage. She was wonderful at strategizing, maneuvering, and keeping her head on smartly instead of letting the adrenaline sink to it like so many other Chasers did. However, the more Harry thought about it, she was a complete distraction. It seemed to him that she got cleverer with each passing day.

The fact that she was suddenly becoming drop dead gorgeous hadn't escaped his attention, either. Harry was fascinated with her hair. It was at a medium length where it just hung over her shoulders. The ends flipped out in such an adorable way that he melted whenever she put it into a ponytail. It was bright scarlet and looked silky to the touch. He could remember a time when he was in the locker room discussing how well they had done when he saw Ginny taking her hair out of her ponytail and mussing it. He'd forgotten what he was going to say next. He'd been doing that an awful lot with her lately.

It really surprised him a few seconds later when he saw the exact girl he had been thinking about waving at him from downfield. He thought no more about it and zoomed over toward her.

"I spotted the Snitch!" she whispered harshly. "I saw you zoning out, and I was a little worried. Are you all right?"

His green eyes sparkled for her concern. She noticed this and turned bright red. The girl had lost her crush years ago and was a completely free spirit when it came to everything else, but she certainly didn't know how to take any kind of compliment.

"I'll be fine, J, where did you see the Snitch?"

She nodded her head toward the end of the pitch, by the Hufflepuff box. He said no more and zoomed off. Ginny turned her broom backward to help more with the scoring of the game.

They spoke no more the rest of the game. Ravenclaw caught up quickly to Gryffindor, and before they knew it, the score was seventy to sixty, Gryffindor leading. Ginny was on the edge of her broom. She wanted Harry to find the Snitch right away. He had to. They had to win.

But she had let the thought dwindle too long. Before she knew it, Ravenclaw's Seeker and Harry were hurtling toward her rapidly. She was sure that in a matter of seconds she would be lying unconscious underneath a Seeker, but Harry shifted his broom in time to narrowly miss her head and reached his arm right next to her left ear. The crowd went wild. Harry had caught the Snitch and Gryffindor had won the game.

Ginny sat on her broom, speechless. What had just happened?

Harry smiled down at her and then frowned when he saw her look of confusion. "We just won, J! Come celebrate with me!"

She shook off her daze and whizzed through the air to follow behind him.

The crowd was going wild in amazement. She had missed it, but Harry had pulled back so narrowly to miss hitting Ginny that when he went to grab the Snitch, he was nearly lying backward on his Firebolt. There was a party in Gryffindor Tower after the game, but neither Harry nor Ginny attended for very long.

Ron and Hermione came running up after the game to congratulate them. Hermione had also excitedly told them that McGonagall was going to let them go to Hogsmeade if they won. Harry and Ginny thought it was the perfect way to wind down after a game.

So after changing out of their Quidditch uniforms and meeting Ron and Hermione back at the portrait hole, the clan headed for Hogsmeade.

All anyone could talk about was the match and how wonderfully it had gone. Harry couldn't stop complimenting Ginny on how well she played. She was so shocked by the compliments she could hardly speak.

"Something that never happens," Ron pointed out cheekily.

Ginny shot him an evil look and listened to Harry go on about new Quidditch tactics raptly.

They settled in the Three Broomsticks a short while after arriving. They began a discussion about something that Harry didn't really mind talking about at that moment: The Order.

"How _is_ everything, Harry? You don't tell us anything because of that pact," Hermione asked. She and Ron were holding hands on top of the table.

Harry didn't have his mind on The Order, however. He was staring at Hermione and Ron's joined hands. Ginny was also staring out into the pub. She had told Harry at the beginning of the year that she wanted nothing to do with Voldemort and The Order. Oh sure, she would be there if her friends ever needed her, but she didn't want to be constantly included. She said that her experience first year was far too close for comfort. Harry understood all too well.

But she was playing with her hair.

Yanking his eyes away from the bright tresses, he gulped and answered, "To be honest, they haven't gotten so far. It's becoming very pressing. They don't know where Vol¯" Harry stopped at the way Ginny flinched next to him. Ron had made it a point to stop calling him You-Know-Who, for Harry, but it didn't stop him from getting squirmy. Ginny was another story. "I mean, they don't know where You-Know-Who is hiding."

"What about Death Eaters?" Hermione asked. "Surely they can't _all_ be hiding?"

Harry watched Ginny become increasingly fidgety. This only made him nervous. Casting a worried glance at her, he answered, "Well, no, they're not. Thanks to some of the Aurors who volunteered to go out on what seemed like suicide missions, they caught a gigantic number of Death Eaters."

"Well, that's good at least. But there are still Death Eaters trying to get into the Muggle world?" Ron asked.

"They have Aurors on that as well," Harry looked up and saw that Ginny decided she couldn't take it anymore. She got up from the table and walked outside of the pub.

Ron sighed, shifting in his seat. "I'll go talk to her."

"No," Harry said automatically. He got up. "This is my fault, I promised her I wouldn't include her in all this. I need to talk to her."

"But you weren't including her in _anything_," Ron pointed out as Harry set out to leave.

"She was here while we were talking about it, wasn't she?" he asked, not waiting for an answer as he left to go find Ginny.

Fortunately, she hadn't gone far. She was sitting out in front of the Three Broomsticks on an old wooden bench that appeared to be so only magic could possibly have kept it standing. Tears were streaming down her face.

"Ginny," he whispered. She looked up at him quickly, wiping the tears off of her face and scooting down the bench to make room for him.

"Harry," she greeted. "What are you doing out here?"

"I came to talk to you," he said quietly.

She only smiled at him. "Thanks, but I'm fine. I just… yeah, I'm fine."

"No, you're not, and it's my fault you're out here crying."

She looked at him, surprised. "What are you talking about? Nothing is your fault."

"I promised you I'd never talk about You-Know-Who while you were there… and I did. I apologize. You don't need to be wrapped up in this mess."

A couple more tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked into the street and became foggy-eyed, as if reliving a memory. "I just can't believe he got a hold of me."

Harry was shocked to hear her mention the encounter she had had with Voldemort. She was always so tight lipped about it. The mere mention of that year made her turn completely white.

"I'm so sorry I let that happen to you, J," Harry whispered.

Ginny again looked at him as if he were insane. "What are you _talking_ about? How could you have done anything about it? I was just a silly eleven-year-old girl with a huge, embarrassing crush on you. You wouldn't have wanted to protect me if you could, Harry."

"Says who?"

"I wasn't blind then, Harry," she told him as more tears crept out of her eyes. Harry knew that the few she was crying at that moment was his doing. "It's not flattering to have your best friend's little sister drooling over you all the time. Thank the gods I came to my senses."

Harry felt himself deflate. So she was happy about not liking him anymore?

"I was twelve, J," he told her. "I was just getting used to being the famous Harry Potter and the fact that I had friends. Having you there complicated my thoughts a little. I just should have been thinking clearer. Maybe I wasn't using my head enough."

"Don't blame yourself for that. It was five years ago."

"But the scars are still there."

Ginny felt more tears seep out of her eyes and buried her head in her hands. Harry did the only thing he knew to do. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. His right hand was lying limply at his side, but he was just itching… itching to get it up there to touch her hair.

She sniffled. "You don't have to comfort me, Harry."

"I want to."

Ginny stopped crying (and breathing) long enough for Harry to move his hand to her hair. His eyes closed in exhilaration. It was just as soft as he had always imagined it. Soft, silky, and ran through his fingers as wonderfully as he had only hoped it could. It even smelled heavenly.

"H-H-Harry?" Ginny croaked after a few minutes.

"Yes?" he answered, his voice distant.

"Can we get up? I'm getting kind of stiff."

"Oh," he said, a disappointment in his tone that Ginny was surprised to hear. They got up and stretched. Ginny peered into the pub and realized that Ron and Hermione were enjoying their time alone.

"Should we leave them? They don't seem to be missing us," she pointed out. Harry glanced in just in time to see Ron and Hermione's lips lock. He couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy for what they had. He turned to look at Ginny.

"Let's go for a walk," he offered. They walked down the street in silence. It was a comfortable sort of silence. They walked so close together that their shoulders bumped every so often, each mumbling a sort of, "Sorry," to one another. They entered many different shops where both browsed. Ginny was tempted to buy a box of multi-colored parchment paper, but didn't have enough money.

Harry smiled sweetly at her. "Do you really want it?"

"I've been getting sick of the same old stuff, but I don't _need_ it."

"Yes, but do you _want_ it?"

She shrugged, looking away. She definitely didn't want Harry to think she was trying to ask him for money, because she wasn't. That was just silly.

But a few seconds later, Harry shoved the box into her arms, smiling happily. "If you don't use it, I will. It's _our_ paper."

Harry knew too well that none of the Weasleys would ever be keen enough to accept his money. By using the 'sharing' loophole he had devised with Ron, he could buy them gifts easily.

She smiled shyly and thanked him as they walked out of the store. Ron and Hermione had finished their drinks at the Three Broomsticks and were heading down the street, holding hands, talking and laughing.

"There they are!" Hermione said, as if noticing Harry and Ginny for the first time in her life.

"Hullo," Ron greeted. "Are you ready to leave? We're having too much fun, I suppose it has to end sometime."

"Oh, Ron! _Honestly_," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "What's so bad about school? Besides, we have homework in Transfiguration that you haven't even started…"

He cut in, rolling his eyes. "Which is due next week, but I decided I wanted to spend more time with you than with a book and a piece of paper for a night. Calm down."

This shut her up.

"Yes, we're ready," Harry answered the question Ron had asked what seemed like ages before.

"All right then," he said, turning around and leading the way back to Hogwarts.

They arrived not a moment too soon. The four spent the remainder of the day in the common room and were so beat after dinner in the Great Hall, they decided to go straight to bed.

Harry had never seen Ron or Hermione act the way they were acting. It was as if the world was ending because they had to part ways for bed. Hermione normally would have been itching to hop on her bed and read some new book she had bought and Ron would have been desperate to sleep. It was quite a funny sight, however, seeing as they were very tired to begin with.

Ginny clambered into the portrait hole seconds after Ron and Hermione had kissed and separated for the night, still staring at each other as they walked away.

"You'd think he was going off to war," Harry said offhandedly to himself.

Ginny had heard him, stopping dead in her tracks. Harry turned around quickly and saw that she was pale again.

"Oh, J, I didn't know you were there…"

She shook it off quickly and gave him a weak smile. "It's all right. I have to start coming to terms with things and not be so sensitive. Are you going to bed?"

He nodded, getting out of the chair and walking toward the stairs. "Yes, yes, I am. I can't even think I'm so tired. What about you?"

She nodded too, and without hesitation she pulled out her wand and pointed it behind Harry. "_Accio_!" she yelled suddenly.

Harry turned around quickly to see the box of parchment papers he had bought her. She opened it and dug out a few, handing them to Harry.

"No, no, those are yours."

"You said ours."

"I said I'd use them if you didn't."

"I want you to have some."

"J, I don't need any."

"Take them."

"No."

"Do I have to force you?"

"I don't need them."

Not taking no for an answer, she grabbed his hand and shoved the papers into it. He started to protest but before he could, Ginny answered, "Listen to me. I don't ever ask you for anything, and I don't need anything from you. But you gave me more than just parchment paper tonight, Harry. You gave me hope."

Flattered, Harry looked away from her bright brown eyes and to the trembling parchment in his hand. "What do you mean?"

"I've known for some time that you're amazing, Harry," she said, a slight flush rushing to her cheeks. She was, of course, referring to her huge embarrassing crush five years previous. "But I never really knew how wonderful you were until a year or so ago. And I didn't know until tonight that you were willing to be so wonderful to me. Just me."

Harry wanted to say something, anything. He preferred to tell her that when it came to Ginny Weasley, the word 'just' was not included in the same sentence describing her. There was a reason why he was being so wonderful to 'just' Ginny Weasley.

"Oh."

She smiled. "Take those papers. That's all I ask."

He nodded and let them drop to his side in agreement. "Goodnight, J."

"Goodnight, Wood."

She stared at him for a few seconds, contemplating whether or not to hug him, kiss him on the cheek, or just walk away. In the end, she just smiled and went to bed.

Harry sighed. "Oh, 'just' Ginny," and went to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

When the long weekend was over, every member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team knew that they were in for a rigorous practice on Monday. However, they were not aware of their Captain's distorted ulterior motives.

"We had a great game on Friday, team," he said, staring at the many members as he spoke that day at practice. "I was very impressed. But we didn't do our best. We have more potential than that. Chasers, you could have been a heck of a lot faster. Beaters, where were you when Ravenclaw scored their last goal? You looked like you were clueless! And Dane!" he said, addressing their Keeper. "You did wonderful! One of your best games. You did the best you could. Now, you know what our winning this game meant, don't you?"

"We're in the lead for the Cup Playoffs, right?" Ginny asked. She was seated on the front bench, like she always was.

Harry's hard face softened for a few seconds as he smiled at Ginny. "Exactly right. Now I have no idea who we're playing, of course, because the actual tournament date is not until February 7, and the next match on Friday will tell us who we're playing. So it's either Hufflepuff or Slytherin at this point. We haven't got much time. It's already the twentieth. I want a good effort today. Let's go!"

The team got up and ran out of the locker room as Harry had always encouraged them to, arrived at the field, and kicked off onto their brooms. It was a cool and fresh morning. Harry always enjoyed the feeling of the wind on his face. It woke him up no matter what.

He definitely needed to be awakened after the events of the past weekend. Ever since their brief trip to Hogsmeade, Harry and Ginny had found that they enjoyed being together even more than before. Harry went to Ginny's dorm to talk to her the next morning and Ginny had only yelled, "No, no, Saturday… no Quidditch," and went back to sleep.

Of course, Harry's intentions had not been to practice or even talk about Quidditch. He had been so anxious the night before to talk to her about what she meant that he couldn't think of anything else but seeing her the next morning. It was a strange feeling, to never want to be away from one person. He wondered how Ron and Hermione dealt with the feeling all the time.

It hurt him when she said 'no Quidditch.' All Harry could do was walk away and think to himself, "Is that all she thinks about when it comes to me? Is that all she associates me with? Quidditch?"

They spent all day with Ron and Hermione, which really meant Harry and Ginny were on their own while the other two spouted off the occasional, "So how are you doing today?" to them without really caring. Harry found that being by himself was much better than having to watch Ron and Hermione ogle each other.

Luckily enough, he wasn't alone with the two of them. Ginny had opted to spend time with him that day. Of course that meant no Quidditch. Especially if that was the only way in which she thought about him.

"Harry?"

A voice called him out of the distance and he looked up quickly. It was Carly, one of their Chasers. She was looking at him, concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm all right," he answered offhandedly. He smiled at her for in thanks for caring, and bolted away from her. The team had begun their normal warm up and he started as well.

Dane had done his and left the air to grab the practice balls, as he usually did. He let go of the enchanted practice Bludgers. Their Beaters, Dietrich Babcock and Jack Hughes, shot after their balls, using their clubs to knock them all over the field. Ginny, Carly, and their third Chaser, Andrew, waited anxiously for the Quaffle so they could begin their separate practice.

Harry went to the ground to grab his newest bag of golf balls. He and Dane usually worked on their drills together. Harry would throw the balls at him to dive and catch, and using an Engorging Charm, he would throw the oversized ball at one of the hoops for Dane to catch. The golf balls were usually a lot harder than the actual Quaffle, but it worked for Dane.

Soon, a normal Quidditch practice was underway. Harry looked around and saw to his delight that all the members were working harder than usual. They were determined to win the Cup this year.

Harry stopped for a second to observe the Chasers in action and, more specifically, Ginny. She really had grown up so much in the short time he had known her. He had grown, and as he truly thought about it, he had become quite fond of the youngest Weasley.

After a while, Harry began to feel sore, which usually meant that it was time for practice to end. However, after looking over at Miss Weasley, he suddenly didn't feel the need to leave.

"Is practice over, Potter?" Dietrich called, swinging his bat through the air aimlessly.

Harry shook his head, signaling the team to come closer toward him. They all flew over raggedly. "It's been two hours, Harry, can we go in?" Dane asked, yawning.

Again, Harry shook his head. They all groaned. He gave them a piercing look of warning. "Do you want to win that Cup this year, or what? We have to really train! We don't have much time left."

"All right, Wood," Ginny said, smirking.

Harry dared to smile a tad. "We've got to get ready for whatever team we're facing, all right? We're going to play today like Slytherin's won. Remember their defense, their strategies, their tactics…"

"Their Seeker," Carly snorted inadvertently. Harry shot her a look of warning and she clammed right up.

"Right then. We play an hour against Slytherin. Then I want us to bring it so we can¯" he looked at Ginny quickly and then reordered his question. He was about to tell them they could go in, but he couldn't. He somehow felt like he needed to be around Ginny. "So we can go for another hour like we're playing Hufflepuff." The team groaned, including Ginny.

"Come _on_, Wood," she demanded. "Four hours? You don't seem to get it."

"No," he interjected. "_You _don't seem to get it, J. We've got exactly thirteen practices before the Cup. But remember, four of these practices we're going to be unaware of who we're playing, so we've only got eleven practices to figure out their tactics. Do you understand now?"

"You just threw a bunch of numbers at us," Jack complained. "No one understands a thing."

Harry groaned. "Well, then don't worry about it. Practice _will_ go on for another two hours."

He said no more, turning on his broom to go and fetch the balls. The rest of the team dispersed, muttering angrily. However, Carly kept close to Ginny. She whispered, "You are the only one that knows how to get through to him. Do you think you could convince him to let us in earlier?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. When Harry's set on doing something, it's usually sort of hard to talk him out¯I do _what_?" she screeched. She was looking at Carly incredulously.

"Oh, please," Dane sighed from behind her. She looked up. He was rolling his eyes. "You have got our Captain wrapped around your finger and you don't even realize it."

"WHAT?" she screamed again. "What are you talking about… it's just Harry! I don't have anything…"

"Yeah, right," Carly said next to her. "Haven't you noticed the way he smiles when you answer one of his insane questions right?"

"Or the fact that he always makes you sit in the front?"

"Or the way he stops talking whenever he looks at you?"

"I noticed that too!"

Ginny thought the other two were going insane, yet she couldn't help but think about this herself. Why did Harry do all those things? Surely he couldn't… no… there was no possible way. But then again, Friday night in Hogsmeade had made her think of a lot of different things when it came to Harry.

He'd woken her up on Saturday morning. Ginny wouldn't even allow herself to entertain the fact that he was up there to talk to her. He was up there for Quidditch. That was all he really saw her as – Ron's great Quidditch playing little sister. At least, that's what she thought.

He was Harry Potter! If he wanted, he could have been dating any girl in the entire castle. Of course, he had so much on his mind that she didn't blame him for only thinking about Quidditch half the time. It cleared his head.

The Quidditch scrimmage began, and Harry was yelling things to look for when it came to Slytherin. The team had gone through an entire practice once, pretending they were playing Slytherin. They learned how to dodge the fouls that Slytherin loved to dole out. They went around elbowing and kicking each other, practicing how to either ignore them or counterattack without getting a foul of their own. The game against Slytherin had gone unbelievably smoothly.

"Play like we're actually playing them!"

Ginny always had fun pretending she was a Slytherin. She raced up behind Andrew, yanking on his broom. Their defense for not getting whiplash against this attack was to lean over quickly to one side, dipping their broom as well. This would throw the person on the back off balance if they were still hanging on, while maintaining their own balance.

The practice against 'Slytherin' went quite well. Harry had them all huddled in the middle, and feeling too weary to stay on his Firebolt for long, he gave in and let them go back to the castle. Ginny didn't even have to open her mouth.

As soon as everyone hit the ground, they walked so briskly into the castle that they were out of sight before Harry descended. He walked over to the box of balls and sighed, cleaning them up.

"Do you need help?"

Harry looked up to see Ginny setting down her broom and walking over toward him slowly. He smirked.

"I thought you'd be in by now," he said.

"I thought you'd need help. Do you?" She stopped in front of him.

He smiled at her, packing the balls away. "Well, no, but I'd like some company."

She smiled back shyly and walked with him to the equipment shed. "I was curious about something, Harry."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Why did you make practice so long today?" After what Dane and Carly had said, she had become very interested in this exact question.

He shrugged. He couldn't tell her why. How would that sound? _I really wanted to be around you longer because you're all I think about._

"We've got thirteen practices until the Cup, and if we're going to win¯"

Ginny stepped up closer to him, causing his breath to catch in his throat. "Why did you make practice go so long?"

She completely amazed him. She'd seen right through his act. But how could that be? Surely he'd been more discreet about her feelings than that… hadn't he?

"There's a reason for everything, J," he whispered, turning away and closing the doors of the shed.

"Well, what's the reason for this?"

He said nothing.

"And why do you call me J?" she said, a smile playing on her face. "I've always wondered that."

"I'll take _that _one to the grave with me," he told her, smiling as well. They stood close together for a few seconds and said nothing.

"Why did you make practice go so long?"

"I think you know the answer to that one, J," he told her knowingly, going to pick up his Firebolt and head in.

She rushed after him, grabbing her broom while she ran by. "Harry, please tell me, I don't know."

He stopped, turning toward her. All he could do was stare at her, entranced. She had gotten so pretty in five years that it shocked him. He couldn't believe the urge he had to touch her face… and especially her hair. He held back.

"We have thirteen practices before the Cup."

Ginny watched him walk away and knew there was only one way to get through to him. Hermione. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Harry."

A head full of swarming thoughts was broken into by an all too familiar voice. Hermione had walked into the common room where Ron and Harry were doing homework. Ron lifted his head instantly and smiled widely. She returned the smile and stood in front of him.

"Are you going to sit down?" he asked.

"No," she said, suppressing a smile at Ron's look of disappointment. "I actually wanted to talk to Harry alone."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "All right," he said, shrugging, trying not to look too intrigued. Glancing back up quickly, he saw Harry and Hermione sidle out of the common room.

After the portrait was closed, Harry stared at Hermione, puzzled. "What's this all about? I thought you were going to take Ron away from me and go snog or something."

She shot him a Look and started walking.

"This isn't about my Divination work, is it? Please don't lecture me on the fact that there is no way I could be eaten by a manticore next week and convince me to take it off of my chart. I've already completed it¯"

"Harry, shush," she said, interrupting his rant. "This isn't about Ron _or_ schoolwork."

He blinked. That was usually all Hermione talked about. "Am I in trouble?" he had to regard the fact that Hermione _was _a Prefect.

"No, you're not in trouble," she said, laughing. They continued to walk down the stairs.

"Well, then, where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular," she said carelessly. "I just wanted to get out of the common room so I could talk to you."

"Well, come on, tell me, I'm in suspense!" he said, fixing his sliding glasses on his nose.

"All right," she said, as if giving in. "I heard your practice went for almost three and a half hours last night."

He shrugged. "We've got¯"

"Thirteen practices left until the Cup?" she asked, glancing at him slightly.

He sighed. "Okay. Did Carly say something to you?"

She shook her head. Hermione and Ron had become friendly with the entire team, and Hermione was known for tutoring most of the younger Quidditch players so they could keep their grades up and stay on the team. She and Carly had struck up a friendship.

"No, it wasn't Carly."

"Who then?"

"Why did you make practice go so long, Harry?"

_Ginny_. Why had Ginny talked to Hermione about this? "Not you, too. We have thirteen¯"

"I'm aware of that," she said. "But I just don't understand why you did it. And neither does Ginny. She told me that she had an awfully interesting conversation with you after practice, as well."

Harry stopped walking, stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at Hermione. "What is this really about?"

Hermione put her hands on her hips and stared up at her friend. "Don't even think about denying it, Harry. I've been there. You fancy Ginny."

Harry was taken aback at the direct comment. "What? You've finally gone bonkers, Hermione."

"That's not what I would call it," she said, smiling.

"It _sounds_ accurate," he shot at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "All right, all right," she said, waving him off. "But you know what I'm saying, and I know what's going on. I've been there. Don't make me relive it."

"Okay, okay, maybe… maybe…" He couldn't even get it out of his mouth. He wanted to say it now but didn't know how exactly. "Maybe I do… 'fancy' Ginny, but so what? How am I supposed to even go about trying to spend time with her?"

"Well, killing her at Quidditch practice is not a good way to go about doing it. If she dies from exhaustion, when are you supposed to tell her?"

Harry only stared at Hermione. "Okay."

"Granted, Ron wasn't very romantic about his approach until he realized that he'd almost lost me," Hermione said, returning to the incident she had encountered with Ron. "I just don't want that to happen to _you_," she said.

Harry scratched the back of his head, making his hair even messier than before. He suddenly wanted to tell her everything… he knew he could trust Hermione.

"I don't know how to even go about telling her anything," he whispered. "I expect she doesn't fancy me."

Hermione looked at him quickly. "Are you serious?"

"Well, she, um…" he knew he could tell Hermione all of this, but he had trouble. He figured he'd sound like a prat saying everything he had been thinking at one point. "She's only on the Quidditch team with me, don't you think… don't you think that's all I am to her?"

"Quidditch Captain?"

Harry nodded, but Hermione shook her head. "Please. For two years you were everything to her. You should be happy that she doesn't worship the ground you walk on anymore."

Harry's face turned red. "Where does that get me?"

"Oh please, Harry," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "You don't honestly think you'd be so interested in her if she drooled and sighed and got excited every time you walked into a room? That would just put you off, like it did before."

Harry nodded. He understood what she was saying. Having Ginny worshipping him at one point didn't exactly steal his heart. Yet the moment he had realized she'd moved on, he'd realized that the whole time he could have been getting to know her instead of avoiding her. She was a wonderful girl. Smart, funny, everything he never knew she was.

He finally found the nerve to speak. "S-So, say I _do_ fancy Ginny," he said, trying to sound casual. It was impossible to fool Hermione. "I don't even know the first thing about approaching her without thinking about… everything."

"Well," Hermione said, turning around to continue walking. "I know one thing you can do for sure," she said, chuckling softly. "Don't overdo Quidditch just to see her. That will only confirm your fears about what you mean to her."

He nodded, understanding. "That makes sense," he said quietly.

"There are better ways to get her attention, you know."

He nodded again and then looked at her. "I don't really get how, though. What could I do?"

"There's plenty. Talk to her about something _other_ than Quidditch."

"But I do… I mean… I thought I did…" Harry was now very confused. Maybe that was all they had in common. Quidditch.

"Well, make an effort to talk to her about other things. Ask her about her classes, offer to help her with anything if she's struggling. Get to know her for more than just a Chaser, Harry."

"I really thought I had. What else can I do?" he asked, feeling dejected all of a sudden.

"There's plenty," she said, stopping in her tracks. She turned around and grabbed Harry's arm. "I think I might have a book on this."

"Oh no," he groaned. He ran after Hermione back up to the portrait hole and followed her through after she had screamed out the password ('_wheezes!_'). Ron looked up and frowned at Hermione. "That was quick."

She said nothing and left Harry behind as she ran up to her dorm. Harry shrugged at Ron and they turned to watch her barrel down the stairs. She blew off the cover of her book and handed it to Harry triumphantly.

"Give it a read," she said, smiling. "It's very helpful," she leaned over the back of the couch where Ron was sitting.

Harry looked at the cover. It was black leather bound with gold writing. It read, Love Spells and Charms: A Guide for Insecure Teenage Wizards.

"You really know everything, don't you?" he asked, smirking at Hermione.

She shrugged. "Go on, read it. You'll get an idea."

"Why would you ever need this?" he inquired.

She waved him off. "Let's not go into that story."

Harry only laughed, walking out of the common room and back up to his dorm. Ron frowned, looking at the stairs and then back at Hermione. "What was that? What did I miss? Does Harry… _fancy_ someone?"

Hermione laughed and leaned closer to Ron. "Do me a favor, love."

"Anything."

"Shut up."

Flipping through the pages of the unused book (which was a large surprise, considering it _was_ Hermione's), Harry found that nothing was helping him. How was a book supposed to help him get to know Ginny?

However, Harry had come across a few interesting things. Some Spells he couldn't help but read over. There were even love potions that sounded enthusiastic. 'Get your crush to notice you!' 'Keep your mate around forever!' 'Keep your mate faithful!' He had to laugh out loud at some things.

Yet after he got past all of the Charms and Spells (none of which were titled 'Get help talking to the girl of your dreams about things other than Quidditch!'), he came upon an entire chapter full of stories. They were stories about past witches and wizards that had used Love Spells and Charms for their plight. This he found very interesting.

The first few were about successes. The Spells and Charms had worked effectively, and the two people in question lived 'happily ever after.' He read about some blunders. There was one he read in which a wizard had wished for a faithful, beautiful, loving mate to be with forever. He hadn't been specific enough in the spell, and had received an immortal Labrador Retriever.

There was a story he read that he knew had solved all of his problems. The story was about a wizard who was a trifle like Harry. He was madly in love with a woman he had gone to Wizarding School with, and was unable to approach. The witch in question was one of his best friends and thought nothing more of him than just that. He had tried everything to get this woman to notice him. He had conjured spells, used charms, and even brewed love potions to help him in his dilemma. Yet nothing had worked. He and the witch were still friends.

The story for Harry got quite interesting after this. The witch was also madly in love with her wizard friend, but refused to think he could be in love with someone like her. Therefore, the spells, potions, and charms were ineffective. However, the wizard soon came up with a terrific idea that had come about in the Muggle world.

He wrote her love poems. The poems worked better than any magic could have. The witch knew how he felt about her after that and they were together for many years after.

Harry slammed the book down. A Muggle poem? It was too simple… it was too easy… why hadn't he thought of it before? He knew Ginny would love it.

But an afterthought caused him to rethink the idea. _What about Ron_? He was sure that his best friend wouldn't find so wonderful if he knew his best friend was writing his sister love poems. What was he going to do?

He thought nothing more of it, deciding that if he was going to do it, he better do it before he talked himself out. He jumped up from his bed and searched through his trunk for his special red quill ink.

He stopped when he came upon an all too familiar box. He pulled it out. It was the parchment he had bought for Ginny. He knew he was never going to use it for anything after she had forced it on him last Friday, but he had had no choice. He shoved it into his trunk and forgot about it.

However, he pulled it out, intent on using it. There were different colored pieces in the pile, and before he could think twice, he pulled out a couple pink pieces and set to work on his first ever love poem.

For Ginny. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Miss Weasley, are you aware that the time to receive mail is not during class?"

Professor Flitwick did not usually get upset quite so easily, but when Pig had flown in during Charms, hooting excitedly, he had to say something.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said, turning red as she set the letter on the side of her desk.

"You'll do me the respect of not opening it until we are through with class, Miss Weasley?"

She nodded and the professor turned back to the lesson they were covering. It was rather an odd thing to be studying as a fifth year student. She really didn't see the point of love charms. What was the point of knowing what it took to charm someone into your heart? She had no one to feel that way over.

But thinking back, she really knew she did. She just wouldn't allow it to take form in her mind. She had gotten over the famous Harry Potter a long time ago.

After being around Hermione so much, she really got to see who the real Harry was. He was a great person, and definitely not just the hero she had built him up to be. He was a real person all of a sudden, and her childlike crush vanished. She was grateful for that. At least she didn't feel like hiding whenever he walked into a room or turning dark red whenever he said a word to her.

Besides that, she was now on the Quidditch team. That was suddenly starting to mean everything to her. She now understood why Ron and Harry talked about it like it was the only thing that mattered to them in the entire world. It was no wonder. It was a great sport to play and she enjoyed it a lot. She was close to all of the other members of the team and got along with them famously. It somehow didn't stop her from thinking about Harry in that special way again.

Yet this was a different… special way. She wasn't even sure what it meant herself. She had been crazy for Harry for two years of her life and saw what a complete fool she had made of herself. But then, the new feelings started.

She saw Harry in a different way, but in the same way. He was a great person. He always made the team work their hardest and gave them great compliments even while listing things they could do to better themselves. She never walked away from a practice feeling insulted.

He was great with her brother as well. Ron had been so stubborn in denying his feelings for Hermione that he'd lost his grip on reality. Ginny had been there when Harry was comforting Ron, and it warmed her heart to see the way Harry used his sensitivity to help his best friend.

She had also been acutely aware of his growing charisma. He had grown so much taller and so much broader in the past few years. She hadn't noticed until she cleaned out her room one day, getting rid of all of her Harry Potter memorabilia. She spotted an older picture of him and made the comparison. He looked so much different. His green eyes were bigger and brighter than before, his shaggy black hair was adorably messier, and his voice had deepened several octaves.

Sighing, Ginny stared out the window of the Charms classroom and thought about practice. She couldn't wait. She loved Quidditch practice more and more each time she went. Being on her broom always felt like coming home.

Her eyes wandered back to the letter on her desk. It was pink. Who would have sent her a pink letter? No one she knew even owned pink parchment. Of course, she couldn't be one to judge. She was using turquoise parchment at that very moment.

But who would write her using pink parchment? Who would write and send a note in the middle of class? It had to have been someone outside of the castle… it just had to be.

The bell sounded for students to leave class and Ginny grabbed the letter, hurrying out of the classroom. She needed to open this letter in private, away from everyone who had just seen her receive the letter.

Ginny ducked out of the mainstream of students. There were too many people around for her to read the letter without someone getting curious. Her safest bet was the common room.

She arrived at the portrait hole not a moment too soon. Hermione and Ron had just stepped out, on their way to the Great Hall.

"Hello, Ginny," Hermione greeted her and then frowned. "Where are you going, aren't you on your way down to lunch?"

"Uh… well… I… uh…" she stuttered. She wanted to tell Hermione about the letter, but considering her brother was there, she couldn't very well go blabbing about some secret note. He'd only take it and run off, trying to read it. Either that or he he'd hold it at arm's length, where he knew she wouldn't be able to reach it.

However, Hermione was quicker than Ginny expected her to be. Her eyes traveled down and met with the letter. She gave Ginny a short nod, then took Ron's hand and left for the Hall. Of course, her brother, being the obnoxious prat he was, kept screaming, "Oy! What happened? What did I miss? Will you tell what's going on?"

Ginny laughed, stepping into the portrait hole. Most of the Gryffindors had cleared out to go to lunch and she was relatively alone.

She settled onto the couch closest to the fire, setting her book bag down. Whoever had sent this letter had gone to a great deal of trouble to keep it secret. It had been sealed three or four times with hot wax and wrapped up in lilac ribbon.

Frowning, she unwrapped the ribbon and managed to get the letter open after a great deal of trouble. As soon as she unfolded it, she felt a strong magical connection. Before she had a chance to read, a white dove flew out from the pages. She watched it wing its way around her head before it dispersed into white sparks that fluttered down into her hair.

She smiled widely. Receiving a dove could only mean this was some kind of love letter. She opened up the page and gasped to herself.

It was a poem! A _love_ poem! Who would send her poetry? She knew her prior theory couldn't have been correct. It was definitely someone in the school. She knew no one else outside of Hogwarts that well. But who?

Her eyes misted over as she read the poem again and again. Who could it have been?

'_If ever my eyes were open_

_I never noticed before_

_Because it seems that you have gone_

_And opened every door_

_The hallway in which I hold my heart_

_Was dark and cold it's true_

_But I felt a light so warm and soft_

_The day I set eyes on you_

_I never thought I'd feel this way_

_I've tried with all my might_

_To harbor all these feelings_

_Like shadows in the night_

_But listen to me and you shall hear_

_My voice cry out your name_

_And look for me, for you will see_

_My love holds little shame_.'

Ginny's eyes filled to the brim with tears. It was so beautiful, and someone must have thought highly of her to write such a poem. Her eyes scanned the page for a name. However, all there was on the page was the poem. She touched it lightly with her fingertips, as if that would somehow bring her closer to the author.

'_Look for me and you will see…_'

Obviously the writer needed _her_ to find out who he was. Yet this put her in a funny place. Not minutes ago, she had been thinking about Harry and how much her feelings for him had changed. She wasn't a lovesick little girl anymore, drooling every time she heard the name Harry Potter. Instead, her heart pounded against the walls of her chest. She was unbelievably attracted to her Quidditch Captain.

What would happen when this anonymous romantic found out she had such strong feelings for someone else? What would this poetic genius think when he knew his efforts were all in vain?

She loved the poem. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever read, and it was for her.

'_My love holds little shame…_'

Who did she knew that could love her so deeply? So deeply that they were willing to write her a poem and be so brave as to ask her to look for him? If she wrote a poem, she'd never¯

Her face blushed bright red. She HAD written a poem before. How could she forget such an experience? She hadn't been able to look Harry in the eye for two whole months. Not that she really could to begin with.

The mystery was one step closer to being solved, though. If it was someone really so daring, it had to be a Gryffindor. Besides thinking that, it was the only logical explanation. She didn't know any Hufflepuff boys, she only knew one or two Ravenclaw boys (thanks to Quidditch), and Slytherin… forget it. What Gryffindors did she know capable of such wonderful poetry?

_Obviously_ it couldn't be Ron. Neville was far too preoccupied remembering potions to write poetry, as rude as that sounded. Seamus was still very smitten with Lavender, and Dean barely even spoke to Ginny.

She wouldn't even consider the possibility of it being Harry. Sure, she was always around him, but she was just Ron's little sister. She wasn't Ginny to him. She never expected to _be_ much more. Of course, he told her regularly that she was one of the best Chasers he'd ever seen. He usually talked to her when Hermione wasn't around to chat with. But surely… he couldn't be in _love_ with her. There was no possible way. She pushed the thought away altogether.

Who? Who? Who?

The door to the common room swung open. Ginny jumped a mile and looked up to see Harry climb in through the portrait hole.

"Hullo, J," he said cheerfully. "I came to find you. Why aren't you in the Great Hall?" His eyes searched her hands and landed upon the letter. His expression changed slightly. Ginny frowned at this.

"I was um… reading…" she said, flushing. She hadn't done that in front of Harry in almost two years.

"Reading? At lunchtime?" he tried to act as natural as could be, but he knew very well why she was alone, reading. It was his poem. She had gotten it. She wanted to be alone to read it. Was this a good thing? Was it bad? What did it mean? Did she like the poem?

"Sure… um… did Ron send you up here? He's such a worrywart. If I'm gone for more than ten seconds from a room he goes positively nutters¯"

"No, actually," Harry cut her off. "_I_ was kind of wondering. Ron's been a lot different lately, you know that. He actually _cares_ about what Hermione's reading. He even went so far as to ask her. She took it as a great compliment."

Harry stopped. He knew he was babbling. He was just trying to shake the questions he had from his head. Changing tactics, he nodded toward Ginny's hand. "What have you got there?"

Ginny looked down, startled. Should she tell Harry about the anonymous poet? Would he just laugh at her and tell her she was being childish? No… that was Ron, not Harry.

"Well," she said, lifting up and looking at it. "I'm not exactly sure what to think of it."

Harry frowned. Had she not understood the meaning of the poem? Did she get it? It had said so right in there… _look for me… my love holds little shame._

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

She scratched her head in confusion, and Harry suddenly found himself yearning to touch her hair again. He ripped his eyes away.

"I mean… I know exactly what it is, but I'm trying to decide how to interpret it," she answered.

Again, Harry stood in front of her, looking confused. "Well, what is it, or do you not want to tell me?"

Ginny's large, dark eyes glanced upward at him. Did she want to tell him? He wasn't at all like her brothers. She could just hear the heckling she'd get if Fred or George ever got their hands on this poem. This was Harry though, and he wouldn't even crack a smile when it came to her expense. At least, she thought he wouldn't. She decided to take the chance.

"Harry," she whispered, opening it again. "It's a poem."

"Oh?" Harry averted his gaze.

"Yes. It's a-a love poem."

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He had to ask, "Did you not like it or something?"

Ginny looked up at him quickly. She had been right. He wasn't going to make fun of her. He was _concerned._ "Oh no! It's not that. I love it… it's the most beautiful thing I've ever read."

"Then what's the problem?" Harry asked excitedly. It was the exact thing he had hoped she would say.

She opened the letter, feeling her heart pound a mile a minute. She was going to go so far as to hand it over to him… and let him _read_ it. "Well," she said, offering it to him.

He smiled at her as he took the poem. He looked it over, as if pretending to just notice it for the first time. He even widened his eyes for affect. "Wow, Ginny, who gave this to you?"

"That's my problem," she sighed, taking the poem back almost instantly, looking it over again. She was desperate. "I am sitting here, trying to figure it out… I mean… Harry, whoever wrote this, wants me to find out who it is. They said so… _look for me for you will see my love holds little shame_."

He looked at her, impressed. "You've already memorized the stanzas?"

She nodded helplessly. "He's in Gryffindor."

Harry blinked. "Excuse me?"

"He's in Gryffindor," she repeated, folding the note up and sitting down to put it away in one of her books.

"How do you know that? You don't even know who it is, there's no name."

"I just… I just know. Harry, sit down, you're making me nervous," she laughed. She wanted to get this all off her chest, and for some reason, she felt like Harry would understand. He sat down and moved close to her, just where she wanted him to be. After seeing the shocked expression on his face, she had become crestfallen. There went all of her hopes that it could possibly be Harry. Not that it would have been anyway, she was only kidding herself.

"What's going on? Why are you so confused?" He wanted to slap himself. He was being far too obvious.

Ginny sighed, staring at her hands. "I, well… I got the letter in Charms and I came right up here to read it. I mean, at first I thought it must not be anyone from Hogwarts because no one I know would send me a poem while I was in class¯" at this, Harry turned slightly pink, "¯so I just took it and decided I need to be alone to read it. When I opened it, Harry, it was like I _knew_ who it was from."

"Wait… you know?" he stopped her, confused.

"No… no… but I felt like I did. Instantly… the moment I opened that letter I felt connected to it. It was like I really knew the person who wrote me. Then I saw that dove… and just got confused. Harry, I don't know anyone who loves me that much. I don't know anyone who would ever want me to feel so beautiful inside and out. I've been sitting here trying to think of who it could be… but I've come up with nothing."

Harry stared at her as she bit her lip, still thinking. "Absolutely no one?" he asked, his voice cracking.

She shook her head in answer. He wanted to scream at her in all of his frustration, but he held back. "So what are you so confused about? The fact that you don't know who it is?"

"YES!" she sighed, throwing herself backward into the fluffy couch. "I mean… does it make sense to you, Harry, to be in love with someone you just can't get to… And then have something like this throw you off course?"

He gulped. "What do you mean?"

She looked at the poem. "I don't know what I mean anymore. Things have just gone all awry. Does that make sense? Am I making any sense?"

Harry looked at Ginny, meeting her eyes head on. He wanted to touch her hair… he wanted to play with it, let it run through his fingers, smell it, kiss it, put his cheek against it. Red and soft and silky it was… Ginny's hair.

"I don't reckon I know anymore, J."

She smiled after a tense moment had been broken. "Are you ever going to tell me what that means?"

He shrugged, staring at her hair. "Maybe, if you're good to me."

"Aren't I always?"

They stared at each other a few more minutes before the portrait hole swung open, and a crowd of Gryffindor second years came in. They pulled their eyes off of one another, gathered up their things, and left.

All Ginny could think about was the hopeful look in Harry's eyes while they discussed the poem.

_Maybe… maybe…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"All right. I want you all to be prepared for _anything _at this point. We know for sure that we're playing Hufflepuff, so just remember," Harry announced to the team the next day at practice. "ANYTHING."

They walked out of the locker rooms, hopped onto their brooms, and took off into the air. Ginny was suddenly awakened by the fresh breeze blasting onto her face. Not that she had been tired beforehand, or drowsy in the slightest. Her mind was preoccupied with other things.

Other things meaning her poem.

Harry had decided that if he was going to go about professing his anonymous love for Ginny, he was going to do it right. He'd rather she figure out who was writing the poems for herself. She would never believe him if he were to reveal it was he. That was something he just couldn't understand.

_Why is she so insistent upon the fact that it isn't me?_

He knew that if hew as going to write her poetry and expect her to figure it all out, she couldn't do it alone. He was going to have to help somehow. He decided to spend more time with her every day, talking about things that had nothing to do with Quidditch. He took Hermione's advice, and asked her if she was having trouble in any of her classes.

Of course, Ginny was a star student, not unlike Hermione. She was always willing to study and get her work done, and was never behind in class. Yet when Harry offered help, she couldn't help but put her acting skills to the test.

"Well," she said, pulling off a fabulous worried and frustrated look. "I'm having some trouble with Herbology. I really don't understand the difference between yarrow and yew. It's just a jumble of words to me." She couldn't help but flush at her lie. The two easiest herbs to study in the book were yarrow and yew.

But Harry noticed that even after he helped her with Herbology and she offered to help him clean up after Quidditch practice every day, she still wasn't any closer to figuring out it was him. He even offered subtle hints.

"Any closer to figuring out your mystery poet?" he would occasionally ask. She would only smile and shake her head. She always felt strange talking to him about her poems. She felt so close to him suddenly that revealing her feelings about it seemed almost awkward. Yet he must have really cared about her feelings to as ask as frequently as he did.

Her feelings about it relented one day when she allowed Harry to take it and analyze it. He cracked a smile while holding the paper. It had been folded and unfolded so many times the paper was worn and the ink had faded. Harry suggested a Restoration Charm, but she claimed she didn't want to use magic on the poem at all. It had enough magic without the use of a wand.

Harry read it over four or five times (more for show than anything) and sighed.

"What do you think?" she asked, staring from him to the page.

"Well, it's obvious," he said, turning it over in his hands. He glanced up at her quickly as she stared with large, questioning eyes. "Whoever wrote this is madly in love with you."

She stared at him incredulously. "You got that… from this?"

He nodded. His face was turning beet red, but he knew he had to say it. Maybe it would make it a little more obvious to her. "Well, I'm just saying… you know how you felt a strong magical connection to the letter when you opened it?" She nodded. "Well, I guess I did too."

Her eyes widened. "Y-You did? How is that possible, I mean… who could have written it? It couldn't have just come out of thin air."

"No it didn't," he answered too quickly. She looked at him cautiously but then the moment passed. _Ginny, you almost had it_.

The Quidditch practices were becoming just as tense as his feelings were. Like always, Ginny sat in the front row in the locker room. Harry was going on about fouls to look out for from Hufflepuff, and since Ginny had been in his presence the day before while he was talking about it, she drifted off. Her fingers found her ponytail and Harry stopped speaking when he saw the twirling.

The entire team noticed his abrupt halt, and looked at Ginny questionably. She broke out of her daze and noticed the locker room was silent, staring at her. "What?" she asked.

Harry had to shake off his uncontrollable urge to walk up to her and play with her hair. So instead, he feigned anger and said, "Ginny, can you pay attention please? You're a little distracting."

The rest of the team notice the comment he made before he or Ginny had time to make the connection. Harry continued on with his lecture before he allowed the team to go out and practice.

The practice that day went surprisingly smoothly, and Harry was very pleased when he let them go back. He had once again taken Hermione's advice, and decided that making practices longer and more arduous was not a great way to go when it came to Ginny.

The team left to go in, leaving Ginny and Harry to their own devices. She stayed behind to help him clean up, when Harry asked her about her progress with the poem. She didn't want to talk about it, which surprised him.

"Why won't you say anything?" he asked.

She shrugged. This was almost going too far. She still hadn't come to the conclusion that he was the poet and she wasn't willing to talk about it anymore. He tried not to let his emotions get the best of him. "Come on, talk to me. You've been telling me about this poem since you got it last week. Why aren't you willing to share anymore?"

She sighed. How could he possibly understand? _Well, first off, Harry_, she'd say to him. _I was just beginning to realize that I'm in love with you when this love poem drops into my lap from a secret admirer. Now I've got the problem of being in love with someone I can't have, and having some random person being in love with me. Why am I not willing to share?_

Ginny only waved him off. "It's not important, all right?"

"Sure it's important! Is there something wrong with me, J? Do you not want to share things with me?"

"You're taking this completely out of context. I never said anything like that."

"You may not have said it but I heard it."

"Well then you need to get your ears checked."

They were standing apart now, the box of practice balls completely forgotten. They were bickering! FIGHTING! Harry now felt like Ron. Now he knew what it was like to scream at the woman you were in love with.

"I'm not going to fight with you on this," Ginny said, her cheeks blazing red, her eyes aflame. It was obviously a Weasley trait to become passionate when involved in an argument. "I shared my emotions with you about that poem, and I don't want to anymore. Is that so hard to understand? Leave me alone."

Ginny stared at him for a few seconds, and before Harry had the chance to retaliate, she clenched her fists, spun around, and stalked off.

Harry watched her retreating back and felt like kicking something. Why couldn't she just wake up and see? He was concerned about the poem because _he had written it_. Why else would he care? If he were to act like the average sixteen-year-old wizard at Hogwarts, he would have rolled his eyes at the mention of a love poem and then teased her about it. That's what Ron would have done.

But he wasn't Ron, and Ron was her brother. That made it a little bit different. He could only imagine what Seamus or Dean would say if they knew Harry had been writing love letters. Then again, they would have left Ginny alone about it. Was she too thick to see that?

He stopped himself. He remembered suddenly that she was a Weasley.

He put the rest of the Quidditch balls away on his own and stormed back into the castle. He had calmed down some before he reached the common room, but was grateful when he didn't see Ginny in there. The only person he saw occupying the empty room was Hermione, sitting at the table where she and Ron always played chess, studying.

He sighed, moving forward to her and without looking up, she greeted him with, "No need to say anything. Ginny was just in here."

And Harry let go of all of it. "I don't understand girls, Hermione! You say that we boys are thick, but I am getting so frustrated with her! I took your advice. I read that book¯" at this, Hermione looked thrilled, "¯and I got an idea from the stories in the back on how to go about getting her attention. So I did it, and now I'm trying to get her to see and we just got into a huge fight…"

Hermione's jaw dropped. "So you _are_ the romantic poet!"

Harry stopped rambling and stared at Hermione. He nodded. Hermione squealed with delight and jumped out of her chair. Unexpectedly, she wrapped her arms around Harry and all he could do was smile awkwardly and wait for her to back off.

Once she did, she glanced up to see the confused look on his face and she quickly explained herself. "Oh, that poem is all Ginny's been talking about since she got it! She showed it to me and I couldn't believe it! I had an idea that it was you because I recognized the handwriting and I remembered the story in the book. Harry, she's completely nuts about it. She's been trying to solve this mystery all week."

Harry couldn't say anything, for he was shocked into silence. Ginny had told Hermione?

"I was waiting for you to admit it," she answered, now positively beaming. She looked happier than when Ron had finally told her he loved her.

Harry ran his fingers through his already messy hair. "Well, the thing is, I wrote her that poem, and I've been trying all week to get her to realize it's me. I made a point to say something right in there for her to look for me. She doesn't seem to get it! Why hasn't she opened her eyes, Hermione? She doesn't even want to talk about it anymore. Doesn't she get it? Why would I always ask about the poem if I hadn't written it?"

Hermione only smirked at her friend and Harry cast her a dark glare. "I'm glad you're enjoying all this. Are you going to help me?"

"Ah," she sighed. "That's the beauty of love. You get to figure it out all on your own."

"Are you sure? You haven't read some book called Love and What To Do When It Happens To You At Sixteen?"

She glowered at him. "You know, I do learn _some_ things without the use of a book." She grinned playfully. "Granted, it's only _some_, but I digress. Harry, you're complaining about Ginny not opening _her_ eyes, but why don't you open yours?"

He frowned.

"She had a huge crush on you for two years without you even taking the time to look at her! Don't you think it'd be a little odd for her to think right off that you wrote her _poetry_ after all that?"

A light flickered in Harry's brain. "Hermione… I-I don't know¯"

"Then think about it, Harry! She's only just gotten used to the fact that she's not madly obsessed with you. How likely is it to her that the exact person she's been dreaming about is in love with her?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Well, that makes sense, but¯"

"So don't you _think_ she's already convinced herself that it's not you?"

"Yeah, but¯"

"I read the poem. As obvious as you wanted it to sound, it really wasn't. She hasn't got a clue who it is. You need to give her a little more credit, she's really trying."

Harry couldn't think of anything else to say. Hermione crossed her arms. "What do you think you should do?"

He remained silent a few more seconds, contemplating. At great length, he spoke. "I don't reckon she'll believe me if I just waltz up to her and admit it."

"Probably not at this point."

Harry stared at Hermione for a moment, and then turning on his heel, he bolted up the dorm stairs. He was going to write another poem and if she didn't get it this time, he would be thoroughly frustrated.

Ginny sat in the empty Charms classroom with Ron, fuming. After talking to Hermione in the common room, she had calmed down some. She had just come from the Quidditch field after her bout with Harry. How could he be so nosy? It was _her _private property. No one else's, especially not Harry's.

Ron had been in the classroom alone, armed with his wand and what appeared to be a small golden heart. Several books were opened around him as he poked at the small object on the table. He welcomed Ginny with a broad smile on his face and explained that he was working on something for Hermione for Valentine's Day. So far he wasn't having much luck.

"The one time I desperately need her is the one time she can't be here," he muttered angrily to himself.

"What are you trying to do?" Ginny asked him, laughing at the trouble he was having.

He scratched his head and stared at the book, bewildered. He ignored her question and stared at the contents of the page. "How am I supposed to say this while concentrating on that and waving my wand like¯whoa. I need to sit down." He tossed his wand on the table and took a seat, shaking his head. He finally turned his attention to Ginny and asked, "What seems to be troubling you, dear sister?"

She bit her lip. What was she going to do? Spill to her overprotective brother that she was in love with his best friend, had received an anonymous love letter, and was now frustrated beyond belief because the very person she wanted didn't really want her at all. She was reminded by all of this whenever he asked about the poem.

"Quidditch trouble."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Quidditch trouble, eh? Interesting. Better not let me down, sis. We have to win the Cup this year."

She shrugged. "I suppose you're right. So what exactly is this thing?" she asked, daring to reach over and grab the heart.

He smacked her hand instantly, causing the heart to fall straight out of it. "Ah, ah, mustn't touch."

"What'll happen if I do? Will I get some sort of love sickness for you?"

His ears turned bright red. "Well, if you _must_ know," he said, thinking to himself that he was beginning to sound more and more like Hermione every day, "in December, when I got the Fidelis from Professor Sprout, she gave me this as well. I was supposed to give it to Hermione for Christmas but I couldn't bring myself to give it to her. It gave me such strength when I was around her that I needed it. But then after all that happened, I realized I didn't really need it. So I've been looking up some stuff on how to enchant it… but I just don't know how."

Ginny scooted her chair closer to Ron to peer into the books. "What kind of charms are you using?" she asked. She was particularly good at Charms.

They scanned the book together, looking for something useful. Ron wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but he had confessed to Ginny a few of his plans.

"I think that last one is a great idea," she said offhandedly.

"Really?" he asked, frowning. "I don't know if she'd appreciate it."

"_Please_," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "You could throw mud at her and if you say it's out of love, she'll only use a Scouring Charm and kiss you."

Again, his ears brightened. "I mean… what if she opens it with a bunch of people around?"

"So? Aren't you proud of your love?"

"Of course! I just don't want a bunch of people to be around when she opens it. It will kind of be private."

"Then take her some place private."

He bit his lip in frustration. "What Charm do I need for it?"

"Well, I'd suggest _sonorous_," she suggested, letting her finger trail down the page. "And then you could use _quietus_ for this other part…"

The pensive silence was broken when a screech above caused the Weasleys' heads to peer upward. A large, tawny owl was circling overhead. Ginny's heart leapt in her chest. The owl was carrying another pink letter.

The note dropped onto the desk and Ginny scrambled to grab it. It couldn't be… it just couldn't be… another one?

"What's that?" Ron asked, watching the owl fly from the room.

"I have no clue," she said. However, Ginny managed to forget that she was terrible at lying.

"Oh come on, you know perfectly well what it is. Are you going to open it?"

"No."

"Yes you are."

"RON!" she screamed in protest as he extended his long arm to steal the note. She moved out of his reach by jumping from the chair and rushing toward the door.

"What's the big deal?" he asked, standing up. He packed up his books, pocketed the heart along with his wand, and then turned to look at her. "What's so bad about that letter?"

"N-Nothing. I have to go do some homework, Ron," she said, disappearing out the door.

Sighing disgustedly, Ron took off into a run after his sister. He didn't catch up with her until they reached the common room. Ginny had gone straight to Hermione and before Ron could say anything, the two girls disappeared up the stairs.

Ron sat on the couch, frustrated.

_Girls_.

Ginny and Hermione jumped into Ginny's bed and pulled the posters shut. They wanted absolute privacy.

"I just can't believe he sent another one so quickly!" Hermione said. Of course she knew exactly why he had. Now she was just anxious to see what it said.

Ginny sighed nervously. The letter was wrapped in magenta ribbon this time, and as soon as she untied it and pulled the seal open, the parchment sprang to life. Instead of having a dove fly from the page, a huge explosion of red and green sparks flew above the girls and materialized into a long stemmed red rose. It dropped right into Ginny's hand.

Hermione huddled close to the younger girl, eager to see what Harry had concocted this time.

'_I see your smile like a ray of light_

_Shining through the gray_

_Bursting through those dreary clouds_

_And brightening up the day_

_I watched you at the Quidditch match_

_Soaring through the air_

_With a beating heart and shortened breath_

_I watched your beautiful hair_

_I can't believe your improved skill_

_How it blossomed in a year_

_Your sharp skills and breathtaking moves_

_Never fails to summon tears_

_Keep close watch on where I am_

_For I may be quite near_

_I might be close enough to kiss your face_

_Or to whisper in your ear_.'

Ginny's cheeks were flooded with tears once again. Hermione was even on the verge of tears, mostly because she knew more than Ginny was allowed to know at that point. She had never even thought of Harry being so romantic at heart.

"He loves my hair," Ginny croaked after she read the poem a couple more times. "He knows I'm on the Quidditch team."

Hermione chuckled. "Of course he does. Everyone in Gryffindor does."

"Yes, but how does he know that my skill has improved? This is my first year."

_Oh, Ginny! Make the connection!_ Hermione than cursed Harry silently. He now had _her_ encouraging Ginny to solve the puzzle.

"Does that mean… that it's someone on the team? I bet it's someone on the team!" she smiled at the rose, sniffing it lightly. "It's someone on the Quidditch team."

Hermione got up from the bed. "It's a lovely poem, Ginny. Good luck finding your secret admirer."

Ginny frowned, watching her friend leave. "What's wrong?"

Hermione shook her head, pushing a few stray brown curls out of her eyes. "Nothing, nothing. I just want you to think really hard about that poem, and who knows you well enough to write it."

She turned and left the fifth years' dorm room and went back downstairs. Ginny allowed herself to lie backward on the bed. A few more tears escaped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

_He loves my hair. He's close. He wants to kiss my face and whisper in my ear. He loves my smile. He loves _me_…_

Ginny closed her eyes and sighed happily. Her new mission was to find out who this was so she could forget the unrelenting crush she had on Harry Potter. Maybe whoever this was would treat her like a woman, and not just the little girl she used to be.

_Keep close watch on where I am._

Ginny smirked as she let herself drift off into a blissful sleep. _Don't worry_, she thought. _I'll keep a close watch, all right._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The next day was an uneventful one for Harry Potter. Other than the fact that Ginny was obviously delighted with the latest love ode she had received, his day was like any other.

All he could do was watch Ginny and pray to himself that she would get it. She had to have narrowed her search down somehow. It took every ounce of restraint within him not to stand up and scream at her, "I WROTE THEM!"

Quidditch practice was not until five that day, and Ron had asked Harry for some help in Transfiguration. Harry had frowned at this. Hermione was usually the ideal person to ask for help, especially when it was _Ron_. He had a feeling that Ron wasn't very intent on studying at all.

After the bell rang for the end of classes, Harry ran quickly to the dorms to put his stuff away. He and Ron were meeting in the library to work on Ron's mysterious homework. All Harry could think about was what Ron would really have to say.

Grabbing his Transfiguration book and his wand, he bolted out of the dorms, through the common room, and to the library. Why did what Ron have to say involve him? He had almost arrived at a conclusion when he stepped into the library.

He headed to the back, where Ron had settled. No doubt he wanted privacy to interrogate him. Harry set his books on Ron's table and sat down across from him. "Okay. Tell me where you're having trouble and we'll skip to it."

Ron's ears turned crimson when he stammered in reply. "Uh, well, actually…" Harry waited for the confession. "Harry, I asked you to come down here because I wanted to… um… talk to you about something."

Harry smirked at his friend. "I had a feeling you did. Why would ask _me_ of all people to help tutor you when you've got the smartest girlfriend in the school?" He watched a dreamy and wistful look pass over Ron's face before he shook it off and answered.

"I kind of wanted to talk to you about my sister."

Harry's eyes widened. What did he know? Had Hermione told him? Had Ginny solved it and then told everyone in a six-mile radius? He gulped and managed, "What about it?"

Ron was very uncomfortable talking about it, but he needed to if he was ever going to accept it.

"Harry… do you like my sister?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure I like her. She's a great friend and the best Chaser I've ever seen."

"No, no, Harry, I mean… do you _like_ my sister?"

Harry was caught off guard by the direct tone to the question. Ron was a very vague person. How was he going to answer this? But then suddenly, he changed tactics. He _wasn't_ going to answer. "Why do you want to know?

Ron sighed. "Well, first off, I know since she joined the Quidditch team you two have been spending more and more time together. I don't mind or anything… it's just…"

Harry watched Ron in slight amusement as he squirmed uncomfortably.

"It's my sister. I don't think it's a bad thing that you two are always together. I like it, actually. I love Hermione with all of my heart, but I do feel guilty about wanting to spend time alone with her. I hate leaving you by yourself, so I'm glad Ginny is there. Especially since everything that happened during Christmas took all my attention¯"

"Don't worry about Christmas," Harry stopped him, laughing. "I don't mind _at all_ about that. You know me. I've never minded you and Hermione."

"W-What do you mean 'never minded?' Hermione and I just started dating this year," he muttered quickly.

Harry gave him a Look. "Oh, please. Let's see," he said, very much enjoying the torture he was inflicting on his friend. He sat back and ticked off on his fingers. "First year it was the fighting. Second year it was the slugs. Third year it was Scabbers. Fourth year it was the ball. Fifth year it was¯"

"Hey! We fought ALL the time, and the slugs… anyone with a right mind would have done that!" Ron was red from embarrassment.

"Mate, you don't have to defend all of that! You've got her now."

Ron and Harry stopped for a second while Ron reflected happily. Then, as if snapping to life, he frowned. "Wait a second. How did we get to talking about Hermione? I was asking about Ginny!"

Harry's vision blurred for a second when he heard her name. Ron leaned forward suddenly, a mischievous expression on his face. "Don't tell the girls about this."

_Uh oh._

"Last night, I was in the Charms classroom when Ginny came in. She was fit to be tied! When I tried to ask her what was wrong all she said was 'Quidditch practice.'" Harry gulped. "So she started to help me with Hermione's present when an owl came in. It dropped a letter for her and she got very weird about it. She just got up and ran to the common room with Hermione. They wouldn't tell me what was going on so I decided to find out for myself. I got my cloak and listened outside the door. Harry, Ginny got a poem."

Harry started to become very interested in the designs he was tracing on the table with his wand. "Uh huh."

"So I told Hermione that I had passed by and heard them talking. Of course, she didn't believe me, but surprisingly she didn't press me either. She told me everything, but only after I solemnly swore not to overreact. She told me that Ginny had received two of these love letters from someone very close to me. She wouldn't say who. Harry."

The way Ron said his name made Harry become tongue-tied. He couldn't say anything in his defense. Ron narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"Do _you_ know who wrote those poems?"

Harry shrugged absently. "I dunno, I-I might."

"Do you know him _well_?"

He nodded. Ron said nothing for a few moments before Harry sighed and gave in. "So what if I… _like_ Ginny? I'm sorry, Ron, I know she's your sister and everything, but I can't help it. It just sort of… happened. I didn't plan it."

Ron was silent for a few minutes. "I didn't plan on Hermione either."

Harry snorted. "I don't think any of us planned on Hermione."

The two broke the silence by bursting into laughter. The tension suddenly lifted while they hooted for a few minutes, reminiscing over the years. Ron glanced sidelong at Harry. "So you always knew I loved Hermione?"

Harry rolled his eyes for effect. "_Please_. You had to be an idiot¯" he stopped when Ron gave him a Look, "¯or blind like you two were to not see it. Seamus even asked me when you were going to admit it."

Ron blinked. "Then why did you always act like you had no idea what was going on?"

"Sometimes I really didn't. I knew what was going on, but I really didn't know it was all happening right then. I honestly thought it was going to take longer. I was pretty sure both of you were too stubborn to admit your feelings for each other. It was kind of unexpected. I caught on after a while," he said, smirking. "And during that whole time, when I was avoiding you two, I kind of got to be fond of Ginny. I can't help it, Ron. She grew on me."

He was afraid of what Ron was going to do at this. He had no idea what it was like to be in love with his best friend's sister. It was truly a first.

"Do you _like_ my sister, Harry?" Ron spoke quietly.

Harry frowned. "I just told you¯"

"No!" Ron cut him off forcefully. "I mean…"

"Yes," Harry knew exactly what Ron was trying to say. "Yes, I think I love your sister."

Ron almost winced at this word, but then suddenly decided not to care. Instead, he smiled meekly at his best friend. He couldn't be mad at Harry for loving Ginny. He had watched as she turned into the young woman she was. She was smart, funny, sweet, and caring. She was everything any man could have ever wanted. He was just happy that 'any man' was Harry, and not someone he had to get to know.

"I'm glad it was you," Ron whispered, fiddling with the pages of his textbook.

Harry's eyes lit up. He was accepting it? He wasn't going to fight him and tell him he shouldn't be seeing his sister, his only sister? Harry was so grateful that he wasn't sure what to say.

He knew it couldn't have been easy for Ron. He stood up and made to leave. Ron spoke up in a hoarse voice.

"Take care of my sister, Harry. She deserves it."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at his best friend. "I'll take care of her." And as he turned to walk away, he suddenly remembered something and turned back. "Ron, you won't¯"

"I won't tell Ginny you're writing the poems," he said sincerely, smiling at him.

Harry wasn't sure what to say, so he only nodded his head and walked out of the library. He felt a sudden ease in his heart that he hadn't felt for some time. Ron had seen the light, and understood.

Now it was Ginny's turn.

Ginny stared at the poem in her hands. Like the first one, it was crinkled after having been read so many times. She had narrowed the candidates down to four people. It could have been Dane, Jack, Dietrich, or Andrew. However, though as obvious as it suddenly all was, she couldn't picture any of the formerly mentioned boys sitting down with a quill and a dreamy look on his face to write poetry. Dane Adams was not credited for being a smart member of Gryffindor house. Neville Longbottom was one of his best friends. Jack Hughes was a typical playboy, surrounded by as many girls as his charming, sparkly smile could get him. He had more brawn then brains. Dietrich had far too much testosterone to even realize what a poem was.

That left Andrew. It seemed so unlikely, considering the fact that Andrew had a serious girlfriend in Hufflepuff.

_What am I doing?_

Folding up the letter, she jumped off of her bed and wandered up to the sixth year's dorms, in hopes of tracking down Hermione.

Sure enough, the older girl was lying on her bed, writing in what appeared to be a journal. When she saw the distressed look on Ginny's face, she invited her in right away. Ginny sat down opposite Hermione and waited for her to close her journal.

"What's on your mind?" Hermione asked as soon as she was ready.

Ginny didn't want to cry, but she felt the sudden need to. Things were suddenly becoming so complicated. "Oh, Hermione… I'm so frustrated."

"Why is that?"

"Because… these poems… I'm just… I can't seem to figure out who it is."

Hermione nodded, even though she was itching all over to tell her who it was. She had to let things happen. All she could offer was a shoulder for her best friend to cry on.

"I… oh, Hermione, I'm in _love _with Harry."

_Yes! Good girl! Now, open your eyes and see that he's in love with you, too! Then you'll know who wrote the poems._ Hermione kept her mouth shut.

"And there's someone writing me poetry… how am I supposed to deal with my love for someone who doesn't even notice me and the love of some anonymous person? Hermione, I want to cry."

Hermione fixed herself on the bed and stretched her arms out. Ginny took the opportunity, throwing her arms around Hermione's neck and burying her face into her shoulder. She let the sobs come out as Hermione ran her fingers through her hair gently, whispering to her that everything was going to be okay. For a fleeting moment, Ginny wanted to pretend it was Harry doing that very thing.

Ginny abruptly pushed from Hermione, who in turn cast the younger girl a confused look. More tears leaked out of Ginny's eyes as she started to explain. She couldn't manage the words.

"I know how you're feeling, Gin," Hermione empathized. "I know what it's like to be confused and bewildered about those emotions flying around. I just wish I hadn't been so thick and admitted it as early on as you did."

"Early on? You consider this early on?" she moaned through her tears.

"Well… isn't it?"

Ginny shook her head miserably. "I've been in love with Harry for two years."

Silence filled the dorms before Hermione spoke. "You know, you may be surprised to learn that Harry is not an idiot."

Ginny cast her a sharp glare. "I know he's not."

"Surprisingly enough, neither is Ron. He knew something was going on. He asked me about it last night."

"You didn't tell him… did you?"

"Well," Hermione flushed. "Ginny, he's my boyfriend… I have to start trusting him somewhere."

"Her-MI-one!"

"I made him swear not to overreact and would you believe it, Gin, he didn't!"

Ginny's brown eyes met Hermione's. "Are-Are you serious?"

"No! I told him everything… and then he didn't overreact and I was _so_ proud of him. Maybe he is growing up."

Ginny contemplated this thought as she stared at the wistful look on Hermione's face. All Ginny could think about was having that look some day. It was too much to hope that she would have that look for the one person she wanted.

Sniffling and wiping the tears from her eyes, Ginny got up from the bed. "Hermione, thanks for everything. I have to go do some homework."

Hermione watched concernedly as Ginny disappeared into the hallway. She raced down the hallway and back into the common room, wanting to get to the library as soon as possible. However, just as she had come crashing from the stairs, she crashed into something tall, solid, and rock hard.

Harry Potter.

Harry felt the full force of her weight collapse into his arms and he lifted her to her feet. "Are you okay? You must have been going pretty fast."

"Yeah, I guess," she said, flashing him a small smile.

Both of them were vaguely aware that Harry still had his arms clutched around Ginny's petite frame even though she no longer needed support.

Pushing herself away suddenly, she stared at her feet. Harry felt discouraged.

"Listen, J, about yesterday¯"

"¯It's my fault, Harry¯"

"¯No, really, I shouldn't have asked about it¯"

"¯I shouldn't have gotten so short with you."

They both stopped for a few seconds, staring at each other. Harry let his eyes peer within hers. His heart felt great dismay. _She still doesn't know_.

She stared at Harry, wanting to be out of his presence as soon as humanly possible. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

"G'bye, J," he mumbled, watching her speed out of the room. He stared determinedly at the portrait hole and retreated to his dorm. This time he was going to do it right. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Virginia Weasley had done something very uncharacteristic the day before. She had fallen asleep in the library. Madam Pince woke her up angrily, telling her to get back to her common room. She shouldn't be studying as hard as she was anyway.

"But I've got O.W.Ls!" she protested. Truly she was doing anything to avoid Harry again. Feeling the perfect way she had fit into his arms and how comfortable it had been being that close to him was far too much for her to take. It was becoming too real.

So she'd made her way back to the common room and, to her relief, had not found Harry anywhere in sight. She'd gone straight to her bed to do more work. She pulled out her fancy colored parchment and, much to her dismay, realized she was finally out of turquoise and lavender. She was down to her last two colors, pale yellow and rose. She would have to make a mental note to go back to Hogsmeade and buy more.

However, she suddenly remembered that she had not bought the parchment the first time.

The tension in the castle was great. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, though normally very close and pleasant toward one another, had started blocking off. The Quidditch Cup meant a lot to Hufflepuff, but the Gryffindors had put more stake into it. At least Harry had.

He was the famous Harry Potter, and a fantastic Seeker. He felt like he had a reputation to live up to. There was tremendous pressure on him as the Captain to do a good job. He prayed that with the added stress of the Ginny situation, he'd be able to pull out of it like he always managed to do.

His best friends had been giving him nothing but support throughout everything. It seemed as though Ginny was the only person in the Gryffindor Tower who didn't know. Seamus, Dean, Neville, Parvati, Lavender, and even Colin Creevey had managed to find out in the course of a day that Ginny Weasley was receiving love poems. Of course, most of them didn't have to be told who it 'could be.' It was obvious to everyone but her.

The entire house of Gryffindor was gearing up for the Cup Final. Dean Thomas had drawn everyone a button with a lion on it that clawed and roared. Of course, he had gotten help from Hermione to make the buttons do just that. Many of the buttons were being confiscated, but Seamus Finnigan had devised a way to charm the buttons so they would return to the owner after the class had ended. The professors would think they had just misplaced it.

Ron was in such a great mood because of the team's progress that he had charmed Hermione into putting her studies away early all week to spend time with him. Of course, he had done all this without the use of his wand.

Ginny wandered about the corridors, aware that her cheeks hurt greatly from smiling so much. Everyone was wishing her good luck, the Gryffindors were all flashing their buttons at her proudly, and she couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed. What if she couldn't be all she could be? What if she failed, and Hufflepuff won the Cup? Of course, the stakes weren't as high as it would have been if they were playing Slytherin, but it was pressure nonetheless. It was weighing on her.

Just as the poem situation was going out of her control. She felt like everyone knew what was going on now. Did they all know who it was? Was it Andrew?

The entire Quidditch team knew, of course, that she had been receiving love poems. They all knew who it was as well. Ginny was infuriated to no end when she replayed Carly's taunting voice in her head.

_"You don't _know_? Come on, Gin, it's _so_ obvious!"_

What did it matter what they thought anyhow? It was definitely someone on the team. Andrew had been giving her very shifty looks, and she was sure she had him pinned. She was close… so close…

Or was she?

Sighing in frustration, Ginny hauled her school things down to the common room. She was intent on getting all of her homework done before she went to practice. She had an essay for History of Magic, no less than two feet in length, and homework for Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. Not to mention she had to read a whole chapter for Care of Magical Creatures. She could feel her head spinning as she started on her most important assignment, Potions.

Harry was storming down the hall, Andrew and Carly in hot pursuit. They were talking to him about tactics while Harry carried their play board toward the common room.

"Don't put the Chasers there, Harry!"

"What happens if Dane can't keep that one out of there?"

"What are you going to do with Dietrich and Jack?"

"Surely Ginny can't play right there!"

They were rattling things off to him so fast that he felt completely dizzy. All he had to do was find Ginny so they could all sit down and discuss their plans. He also had to rush up to the Owlery and deliver the poem to Ginny. He'd reread it several times, fully satisfied. If she didn't figure it out after this, he wasn't even going to bother trying.

Hermione's voice replayed in his head.

_You need to give her a little more credit, she's really trying_.

"But, Harry, there's nowhere for Ginny to go when she's¯"

"How do you expect Ginny and me to¯"

"Ginny and Dane could¯"

"Ginny¯"

"Ginny¯"

"QUIET ABOUT GINNY!" he screamed suddenly. Carly and Andrew stopped abruptly, staring at him.

Andrew frowned. "We weren't talking about her. We were talking about Dietrich and Jack, and where they're supposed to be on the pitch."

Harry felt himself turning bright red. At that point, he almost didn't care. The three of them stood outside the portrait hole while four or five second years walked past them, flashing their buttons happily.

Harry felt his fingers gently reach into the pocket of his cloak, where the third poem was. It comforted him somehow.

"Oh, the only way she's going to realize it's you, Harry, is if you hand it to her yourself."

Carly's patronizing voice broke him out of his daze. He blinked a couple of times. "What did you just say?"

"You heard her," Andrew said, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe you're being so daft. Everyone knows you wrote Ginny those poems."

"Everyone knows… about the poems?"

Andrew and Carly nodded. "You don't even realize it, and that's the weird part. You are both trapped in some little world where you don't notice anything between each other…"

"What are you talking about _little world_?" Harry wanted to be disgusted, but he could only feign it. He and Ginny were in a 'little world?' Since when had Ginny been interested in him enough to be in a 'world' with him? Save her first two years, of course.

"Blind, blind people," Carly sighed, giving the Fat Lady the password and stepping into the common room.

Ginny looked up abruptly. She saw two of her teammates… and Harry clamber through. She wanted to throw down her books and homework at once to go join them in a triumphant Quidditch practice, but thought better of it. She kept her head bent down toward her work.

Harry saw the top of Ginny's flaming red hair bent over a large textbook. He wanted to do something very much like Ron. He wanted to take her books, run off, and demand that she spend time with _him_ and not her books. Of course, Ron had the ability to do that to Hermione whenever he felt like it with people thinking him ridiculous of. Harry did not.

"Gin! We need to talk to you about the game."

She looked up and smiled widely at Andrew. He was glancing at her and then quickly back to Harry, as if nervous about something. This confirmed her beliefs even further.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I really can't. I've got far too much work to do. I'll be busy up until practice," she said, her smile waning as she bent back over the Care of Magical Creatures textbook.

"J, will you please talk to us for a few minutes here?" he asked, knitting his eyebrows together. All he wanted to say was, _Put down your book and spend time with me… and just me._

Ginny couldn't resist the hopefulness in his tone, something that, if she were being completely stupid, would have sounded like he meant something different.

She set her book down and looked over at the poster board. "What have you got?"

Andrew and Carly exchanged a knowing look, and the four spent almost a half-hour discussing strategies.

Ron and Hermione broke their concentration by bursting through the portrait hole. It was obvious that this was not one of their best moments. Hermione had her head held up high, carrying her books tightly to her chest. She was red in the face. Ron followed her, red in the face and angry. His fists were clenched and his breathing was heavy.

"Don't walk away from me, Hermione," he demanded.

She scoffed. "What are you going to do if I don't?"

Ron grabbed his hair and tugged gently in frustration. "What are you going to do? Hate me forever just because I happened to¯"

"Oh, no, of course not. I love you," Hermione said with sarcasm dripping on every word. She whirled around and faced him, intense fury in her eyes. "I love the way you eavesdrop. I love the way you sneak around. I love the way you don't trust me enough to relay the information when you are ready to hear it. I love the way you lie to me."

Ron's face was so red that it almost completely matched his hair. "Don't you use that against me in a fight… that's not fair! I meant every word of that! EVERY WORD!"

"Oh and I have no doubt you did! I never said you didn't mean it! Quit twisting my words!"

"Quit calling me a liar!"

"YOU _ARE_!"

Ron bit his lip, refraining from saying anything more. The two of them gave identical grunts of irritation and stormed up the stairs to their separate dorms.

Harry looked at Ginny cautiously. He caught her eyes on him for a second before she looked away again. None of them said anything until they heard the both set of doors slam upstairs. Ginny jumped up, gathering her books.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked frantically. Carly and Andrew were starting their next few sketches on the poster board.

"Wood, I'm sorry, I really have to study," she said, and without another word, she bolted. Harry waited for the inevitable door slam and felt completely crestfallen when he heard it.

His fellow teammates looked at him with the utmost sympathy in their eyes. He wasn't looking at them, however. He was staring up the dorm stairs.

"Harry," Carly broke through his thoughts. He looked at her. "Why don't you go give her the poem?"

"WHAT?" he screeched, jumping out of his chair and away from them. "Just hand it to her? Are you daft? Do you realize¯"

"Slip it under her door," Andrew suggested quietly. "Knock and then bolt. It'll be exciting to her, knowing that her secret admirer was only a few feet away. Then she'll know for sure it was someone in Gryffindor."

Harry contemplated this thought for a while before he decided he would. Taking the poem out of his robes, he looked at Carly and Andrew. They smiled at him encouragingly and watched as he made his way cautiously up the stairs. The last thing he needed was to bump into her on the way down.

Once he was sure he had made it up safely, he approached the fourth years' dormitory and made sure no one was around. He bent over slowly and slid the note under the door. He heard someone bound off their bed and before he had a chance to think, he scurried down the stairs. The door flew open just as he had gotten around the corner.

Ginny opened the door, looking around excitedly. He had just been here. It was him! Her romantic poet! And he had left her yet another note.

She bent over and retrieved the poem, looking around once more before shutting the door. She clutched the poem in her hands, practically flying to her bed. Once she had flung herself down upon it, she nearly ripped the paper in half trying to get it open.

The ribbon was red now. Ginny had not missed the fact that the letters all seemed to be more adamant in their devotion. Whether it was the color of the ribbon, the magical prize that came out of it, or the pure and raw passion of the poem, it steadily increased. Whoever this was wanted her to find out it was him, and quickly.

The letter fluttered open on its own, sending a burst of magical red and pink sparks fluttering all over the place. The sparks then joined together, and in another burst of light, they turned into a red and pink bouquet and dropped heavily onto her bed.

Amazed, Ginny reached out to touch the bouquet and felt to her delight, that it was soft as could be.

She opened the poem and gasped as she read it to herself.

'_So much love inside my heart_

_Aches to be set free_

_All my insides are screaming_

_For you to figure out it's me_

_I watch as you walk on by me_

_Not giving in at all_

_I ask about this but nothing comes_

_And then I can feel my heart fall_

_I wish for you to open up_

_And see my love for you_

_J, your face, it keeps me going_

_Honestly and true_

_I need to tell you all the time_

_I want you in my life_

_But until then my love poems_

_Will just have to suffice_.'

It was the third time such a poem had brought tears to her eyes. However, these tears were not of joy and awe, but of mourning.

How could she have been so blind? It was so obvious to her now. He had used her name.

'_J, your face…_'

What did that name _mean_ anyway? She had to go find out.

Brushing the tears out from under her eyes, she rushed out of the door of her dorm and raced toward the stairs. The common room was still full of people, but there was one person in there she wanted to single out. There was that one person who had made all of her dreams come true. He had charmed her heart for so long now that she had wanted to pretend it wasn't him.

But it was. He was sitting there, laughing and talking in all of his wonderful glory. _He_ was her mystery poet. _He_ was the one who thought she was beautiful. _He_ loved her hair and her smile and everything about her. _He_ loved her.

Staring around the vast common room, Ginny suddenly realized that in her world, no one but this mystery poet and she existed. She wanted to go and be with her romantic. Her secret admirer.

Her Harry. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Where are you going?"

"To the library."

"Why?"

"I've got to work on Hermione's gift. Valentine's Day is next week and I don't think it's going to be ready."

Ron explained all of this hastily to Harry as he scrambled out of the common room that Thursday. He and Hermione had still not spoke since their blazing row the day before. Harry was curious as to why Hermione had been calling him an eavesdropper, untrustworthy, and a liar, but didn't want to press Ron on it. Harry felt that he had had enough of it coming from Hermione's mouth.

Watching his friend leave, he shook his head slightly and looked back down at the poster board. The Quidditch team had gotten together the night before and Harry couldn't be happier with the way things were going. It was very obvious that they were going to flatten Hufflepuff.

Yet all the while, as he thought about 'flattening Hufflepuff,' his thoughts returned to the events that had taken place at Hogwarts two years before. Cedric had been the Hufflepuff Seeker, the only one to ever beat Harry on his once beloved Nimbus 2000. Cedric's untimely demise still made Harry feel queasy.

"Hello." A voice behind Harry shattered his thoughts and his queasiness seemed to melt away. Hermione had just emerged from the stairs, carrying four books and a small black sachet. Her wand was sticking out of the pocket of her robes. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," Harry said, moving the poster board down some. Hermione seemed to be in better spirits, and he was intent on keeping it that way.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking over at the board.

He shrugged. "Making some plays," he cast a glance toward her books. "What is that? Extra credit homework? I don't recall needing those books."

"Oh these?" Hermione asked in pretend shock. "These are actually for Ron's Valentine's gift. Not that he deserves one," she said, her tone souring.

Harry frowned. "Hermione, I don't want to press…"

"I don't want you to either."

There. The matter was dropped. Harry turned back to his poster and went to sketch some more. In a voice very much unlike his own, he spoke.

"Hermione… do you remember fourth year?"

_What a stupid question_, he thought suddenly. "Of course I do," she said, sighing heavily. Harry had eventually told Ron and Hermione everything that had happened the night before they returned to their fifth year of Hogwarts. Hermione had gasped in shock, tears pouring down her face. Ron had been pale and shaking in fear. He also looked like he wanted to hold Hermione somehow, but couldn't.

"I was just thinking about… um… Cedric," he said quietly.

Hermione's eyes glazed over. "I know."

"Hermione, do you ever wonder why things happen the way they happen?"

She offered her friend a small smile. "Every day."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, which only succeeded in messing it up more than before. He pressed his hands to his forehead and sighed heavily. He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He knew the tears were coming, but he didn't want it to show. Hermione knew her friend too well. She put a reassuring hand on his arm and he clasped it firmly.

Hermione smiled as she stared at her friend's profile. He had grown up too much for a sixteen-year-old. The things he had seen in his short life span were things no teenager should have had to see. His face was not an unattractive one, but obviously one that had seen far too much. Harry needed a break.

Harry looked over at Hermione and smirked. "We don't get to talk alone very often do we, Hermione?"

"I suppose we don't. You're always off with Ginny playing Quidditch and Ron usually occupies all my time. He grabs any chance we have alone together. I can't believe the number of times he's actually gone so far as to ask if I wanted to 'snog' with him. He's gone batty," she said, but Harry could tell by the look on her face that she didn't seem to really mind.

"You're right," he said, smiling. "I really wish we had more time to talk, Hermione. It's too bad that things just keep getting thrown at us. Sometimes I think we just connect without having to say anything."

Hermione sighed. "I've always thought that about the three of us. I always thought that there was some kind of special bond that ties all of us together. I think because I'm…" she coughed… "closer with Ron, I'm able to read his thoughts better. You're more of a mystery to me, but I wouldn't have you any other way."

Harry smiled at her. "I'm just concerned about all of this business with The Order. I'm afraid for their lives. And for the lives of the Aurors going out there to stop the Death Eaters single-handedly."

"It has to be done, if they're ever going to destroy Voldemort."

All Harry could do was sigh. "I don't know about anything anymore, really. I mean… I made a promise to myself that I was going to try and get on with my life. It's too much to constantly worry."

"You're right, Harry," Hermione whispered, staring into the fire. "Voldemort may have a lot of power where life and death is concerned, but he has no power over how you choose to live that life. You can't let him control your thoughts and allow him to get to you so bad you can't live your life." He nodded. "I'm glad you came up with that promise, Harry. I think both Ron and I needed that push. We needed to realize that life went on. We can still worry plenty, but we shouldn't let it consume us."

"You never spoke a wiser word," Harry said, beaming at her. He looked over her head and toward the stairwell. Harry saw a shock of red hair dash back up the stairwell. He grimaced at Hermione and all she did was nod. Harry got up from the couch and darted up the dorm stairs.

Ginny threw herself into her dorm room and crumpled onto her bed. She was exhausted behind belief. She had spent all night preparing what to say to Harry. It had to be perfect. She now knew he was the romantic poet she had been longing for. Where did she go from there?

It seemed all too perfect when she'd seen Harry sitting by himself in the common room. She hadn't gotten down there before Hermione was talking to him on the couch. She wanted the opportunity to talk to him alone, and was waiting for Hermione to leave and go find Ron or something. She hadn't waited for long. They were talking about The Order, Voldemort, and Death Eaters. She couldn't take it.

She had to run.

Ginny was now on her bed, staring at the letter. She had planned on handing it to Harry and then saying something she wasn't really sure about saying. Of course, how could she?

Ginny suddenly heard footsteps bounding up the stairs. They stopped outside the door and someone began knocking. Harry's voice came through the other side. "J, open up."

She wasn't sure whether to answer him or not. She couldn't let him in, she just couldn't. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She had to approach him, not the other way around.

"J, please, open the door! I have to talk to you about something."

In a hoarse voice, Ginny managed to say, "Go away."

The pounding did not cease. "Come on, J, open it! I need to tell you something! Don't make me blast this door open."

She sighed. "Please, Harry, go away."

The racket on the other side of the door stopped as well as the yells. Before Ginny knew it, she could hear the footsteps fading down the stairwell. She wanted to thrust the door open, run after him, grab him, tell him she loved him…

But she was far too apprehensive. What would she do after that? Stare him in the face, stuttering, like the great prat she was?

No. No, she couldn't. Maybe if she got her mind off of everything, she could start to focus again. She ran back to her bed and pulled out all of her homework. She still had a long way to go on her Transfiguration essay.

Ginny took her favorite white quill pen out and her bottle of black ink. She took out her parchment to begin, and realized she was down to her last color. But that was what stopped her.

Rose. The color was rose. Ginny jumped off of the bed excitedly; groping for her poems, and brought them back out. Setting them on top of the parchment, she realized they were the same exact paper. He had written the poems on the parchment she'd forced into his hand the night they got back from Hogsmeade.

"You moron," she chided herself. If she had just thought of that earlier, she could have solved the mystery sooner! Sighing as she recalled the memory, she couldn't believe she hadn't seen it sooner.

_"If you don't use it, I will. It's _our_ paper."_

_"No, no, those are yours."_

_"You said ours."_

_"I said I'd use them if you didn't."_

_"I want you to have some."_

_"J, I don't need any."_

_"Take them."_

_"No."_

_"Do I have to force you?"_

_"I don't need them."_

But he did need them. He enchanted them and made them beautiful because that's what he thought of _her_. Why didn't she see it sooner? Why had she completely nixed the thought that it could be him?

As her thoughts of the past few week came back into focus, Ginny soon found comprehension. He had been trying to get through to her all that time, and she had simply blown it off. She was troubled at the thought of her romantic poet being offended by her love for someone else. Why was she so blind?

All this time… when he had pretended not to know who'd written it and then constantly asked her. If he hadn't written the poem, would he really be that interested? And as if by chance, an important memory replayed itself in her head.

_"What do you think?"_

_"Well, it's obvious. Whoever wrote this is madly in love with you."_

_"You got that… from this?"_

_"Well, I'm just saying… you know how you felt a strong magical connection to the letter when you opened it? Well, I guess I did too."_

_"Y-You did? How is that possible, I mean… who could have written it? It couldn't have just come out of thin air."_

_"No it didn't."_

Harry was madly in love with her? How could this be… she was just Ginny… just little Ginny Weasley…It wasn't possible…

Everything was falling into place in Ginny's head. Everything was making sense suddenly, but what she couldn't figure out was how to handle the next bit. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"We've come this far. We've beat down every defense we have. We've soared over the obstacles. We beat Slytherin two hundred to twenty for crying out loud. We can do this. We're ready. Go Gryffindor on three! Are you ready?" The team gave a mild applause and Harry stared at them incredulously. "What was _that_? I believe I said ARE YOU READY?"

The team started whooping and cheering, finally getting excited. They all put their hands in a circle and screamed, "GO GRYFFINDOR!" after three counts. They raced out to the field, clutching their brooms and slapping each other's hands. They wanted this more than anything.

Harry ran beside Ginny, and suddenly everything they had been through melted away. They were just Wood and J again. They were laughing as they eagerly ran to the center of the pitch. Every now and then Ginny jabbed him in the shoulder and he nudged her in the shoulder. This had always been their warm up before a game.

They all arrived at the middle, holding onto their brooms anxiously. The Captains shook hands and as soon as Madam Hooch gave her whistle a sharp blow, the teams flew into the air. They were all looking around eagerly.

Ginny could feel her heart pounding against the walls of her chest. She was sure it would fly straight out of her mouth if she gave it the chance.

And suddenly, it happened in a slow, fluid like motion. The Snitch had been released, and Harry was keeping a close, sharp watch on it. The Bludgers were already flying around like mad. The Quaffle was going to be released any second…

Then it happened. The ball flew up in between the six Chasers and Andrew bolted in to grab it before anyone else could. However, a Hufflepuff managed to grab it a split second sooner.

Ginny saw her opportunity and advanced on the Chaser, her Clean Sweep doing a better job than she had ever expected. She came right up behind him, punched the Quaffle out of his arm, and watched as it soared into Andrew's arm. She did a sharp U-Turn, ducked a mad Bludger, and flew toward Andrew.

Carly was already up at the opposite end of the pitch, waiting. However, before Andrew had a chance to pass her the Quaffle, a Bludger flew into his side, causing the Quaffle to fall. His body slumped over the side of his broom and he was dangerously close to falling off. Ginny raced over to be underneath him in case he did.

While they were making sure Andrew didn't get killed, Hufflepuff had managed to score ten points. The sea of yellow and black was going crazy. Harry looked over at Ginny and Andrew. He made a motion that told them to keep going. Andrew was leaning lazily to the left, but stiffened his resolve. He was now more determined than ever to win that Quaffle back.

Hufflepuff was just as determined as Gryffindor, but Ginny knew that she was sincerely more resolute. She wasn't going to allow her thoughts linger on anything but Quidditch and that red Quaffle… where had it gone? Where had it gone?

Then she spotted it. She zoomed in, intent on getting to the ball before the opposing Chaser had a chance to dispose of it through _their_ hoop.

Carly was already on the opposite side of the Chaser, and remembering the play they had gone over at practice, Ginny zoomed to the other side. It was the Intimidation Tactic. They would bombard the Chaser until it was easy to just grab the Quaffle from his hand.

However, as Ginny approached, she found that what Carly was attempting was not working. The Chaser sat straight up, throwing it to his teammate, and scoring. Hufflepuff was up by twenty points.

The Gryffindor crowd was getting disappointed, but they were pressing on their buttons nonetheless. All the team could hear was the dull roar of lions, and this somehow strengthened them.

Harry was not discouraged whatsoever. He was practicing his scare tactics as well. Dane was doing a great job. The two goals he had let in had only been lucky shots. Dane was doing his best.

The process of flying around the pitch and then shooting suddenly was working great to fool the Hufflepuff Seeker. He was following Harry around like a lost puppy, and when Harry knew he was right where he wanted, Harry would fly off a different way. This was doing the team a lot of good, considering the Chasers were having a hard time.

Ginny was becoming so frustrated she wanted to scream. The Chaser who had the Quaffle was directly in front of her, but she had noticed that her Clean Sweep was acting up. It was becoming slower and jerkier every time she went to make a sharp turn. She was gaining on the Chaser, but it wasn't quite fast enough.

At the last second, Andrew flew from above and snatched the Quaffle out of the Chaser's hand as she had wound up to throw it.

Ginny made a cut across field back to the rival hoop. She was becoming agitated with her broom, but it got her there soon enough for her to catch the Quaffle and throw it in when their Keeper wasn't looking. Gryffindor now had ten points.

Harry smiled charmingly at his beloved redhead and she had no time to think about what the smile meant as she dove in to catch the Quaffle again. Within ten minutes, the score had escalated considerably to fifty-sixty, Hufflepuff.

Harry was suddenly exasperated. No matter how many times he pretended to see the Snitch, nowhere on these small excursions had he actually spotted it. Whenever he would look around for it, his attention would focus slightly on Ginny and then back to the pitch. There was no use trying to locate it from a distance.

Ginny's broom was definitely slowing down. Where it had taken her fifteen seconds before to zoom from one end of the pitch to the other, it was now taking at least thirty. She wanted to burst into tears, resign from the team, or something. Something that would even out their chances. Hufflepuff was still ahead. All Harry had to do was catch the Snitch.

Harry zoomed in and out of the Hufflepuff goals, in deep pursuit of the Snitch. Where could it be? He looked around for his faithful follower and sure enough, the Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail. Harry had to put his Firebolt to the test and push it to its maximum speed. He was no longer in a counterfeit hunt and had to shake his competition.

Ginny was pressing her body forward on the Clean Sweep, but was severely disappointed when she got nowhere. Andrew and Carly seemed like they were light-years ahead of her, passing in and out of the competing Chasers, throwing the Quaffle expertly. The Keeper blocked their goal, sending it to one of the other Chasers. They zoomed back down toward Ginny and her rickety broom.

She tried with all of her might to turn it as sharp as she had been doing it before but it only revolved slowly. She took off after the Chaser, surprised that it had any juice left in it at all.

With all of her might, Ginny pressed forward but to her horror, the broom began to jerk sharply left and right. It was as if the broom wanted her off as soon as possible. She ignored it, still in a hot chase after the Quaffle. She was finally getting to the other goals when a Bludger hit the Chaser in front of her in the arm. He had been lifting the ball in preparation to throw, and when he lost his grip on the ball, it soared straight into Ginny's hands.

Turning once again on the faulty broom, she soared back down the pitch as fast as she could possibly go. She noticed Harry coming up beside her, leaning forward until his chest touched his stick. He had seen it! He had seen the Snitch! Maybe the game would be over before she reached the goals.

However, her broom wanted it to be over before it was. It started to jerk her again, and just as she reached the hoop, it launched her forward.

Ginny had never felt the sensation of being in mortal peril during a Quidditch match. She was sure that this was it. There was no way she was going to survive a fall so high up from the ground. She managed, however, to throw one arm out and with a sweaty hand, she gripped the end of her shuddering broom. She still had the Quaffle in her left hand.

She tossed it in and just as she thought all hope was lost, Carly rocketed up from underneath and bumped the Quaffle into the hoop.

Ginny smiled triumphantly, but then remembered her predicament. She stared at her broom. She was deadly afraid to get back on, just in case it decided to throw her off again. She gripped the broom with her other hand, determined to pull herself back up, but for some reason, she couldn't. She was dangling off her broom ten feet below the Hufflepuff goal, losing grip all the while.

Tears poured down her cheek when reality hit her. What was going to happen if they didn't stop play? What if she lost her grip?

And just as she felt her fingers slip, she felt herself get shoved violently from behind, and she fell backward onto a broom. A strong arm clutched her torso, keeping her on balance. The other arm was reaching… reaching… reaching…

Ginny was vaguely aware of what was happening, but all she remembered at that point was an almighty roar from their side of the stands. She sighed in relief, and looked up to see whose broom she was on.

It was Harry's.

The team soared down onto the field. Carly and Dane were jumping up and down, screaming, while Andrew was clapping wildly, nursing his bruised side. Dietrich and Jack were banging their clubs together. All Harry and Ginny could do was clutch one another while they cheered.

The crowd suddenly had immersed them. "GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!" came the announcement above.

Professor McGonagall handed the Cup to Harry, who in turn, took one side and shoved the other at Ginny. They were both crying as they lifted it up. The entire team huddled around them, touching the Cup in some way as the gigantic scarlet crowd jumped and down.

Harry handed the cup off to Dietrich and Jack and then turned to see Ron and Hermione jumping up and down. Hermione threw her arms around Harry's neck and they laughed together as he spun her around wildly. Ron grabbed his little sister and did the same.

They let go of each other and Ginny went straight to Hermione. They held hands, jumping up and down and screaming. Ron and Harry gave each other a quick hug and started to hoot excitedly as well.

Ron and Hermione eventually found each other after Ginny had given her one last hug. The two went to join in with the cheering and yelling when Harry suddenly got a determined look on his face. He turned to face Ginny, who was beaming at him happily.

Harry then did something that was very unlike him. He grabbed Ginny by the front of her robes, pulled her close, and planted a kiss on her lips. Ginny had no idea what to make of it, so she just let it happen. The kiss grew in its intensity and it was all she could do not to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him in closer.

Harry pulled away from the kiss and leaned his forehead upon hers. His hand was on her shoulder, clenching and unclenching on her robes. His adrenaline was getting the best of him. Ginny forced her arms to stay at her side.

_What just happened?_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Gryffindor had thrown a party that lasted well into the morning light. Professor McGonagall had joined for a moment or two and then disappeared until three o'clock in the morning when she angrily forced them all to go to bed.

Ginny's head was reeling. She wasn't sure what had happened between her and Harry, but she definitely knew what the kiss had meant. She'd felt it down into her heart. He loved her, he really did.

It had been unbelievably awkward that entire week. She only blushed when she looked at him. She was suddenly beginning to feel like an eleven-year-old again. She wasn't sure exactly what to do or say at that point. She wanted Harry to initiate the contact. He was obviously very good at it.

Valentine's Day was at their heels. Harry was uncomfortably aware that he had not spoken to Ginny since the match. Everything had happened so quickly that his head was still swimming. Because of their winning the Quidditch Cup, he had become unbelievably busy with plans for his final year. He wasn't going to let the Gryffindor Quidditch team ever miss out on an opportunity again.

Ron and Hermione had settled their differences and were on speaking terms. They weren't as close as they had been, mostly because of the intensity of their previous fight, which was still a mystery to Ginny. Hermione wouldn't tell her.

February 14 had arrived so suddenly that Ginny wasn't sure what to do with herself. She had visited Hogsmeade the weekend before and bought something for Harry, but she wasn't sure if it was the right thing to get him. After all, they weren't technically a couple.

She found herself alone with Hermione on Valentine's Day in the common room. She had asked for help with her Potions essay, and was certainly aware that Harry had made no move to speak to her on that day. She was starting to lose hope again.

However, an hour into their studying session, Hermione and Ginny were interrupted when a loud bang came from the hallway outside the common room. Hermione, frowning, got up to investigate. She pushed the door open and saw only two small gifts on the floor, wrapped in bright red paper. She picked them up and walked back to the couch. The top one was addressed to Hermione, the other to Ginny.

Hermione looked around quickly for any signs of Ron or Harry, and then looked back at her present. She opened it eagerly and saw, to her great surprise, a black velvet box. Ginny 'oohed' beside her as she looked at the tag on the side. Written in Ron's scrawled handwriting, it read:

'I'm sorry for lying to you. I'd never do anything to hurt you. Maybe this will remind you of that.'

Hermione opened the box and both she and Ginny gasped. It was the golden heart she always saw Ron carrying around. She pulled it out of the box and to her surprise, a golden chain shot out of it and Ron's voice filled the common room.

'_I love the way you're always the first person with your hand in the air in class. I love the way you give me that look when I'm not studying. I love the way you walk into a room and have that air of pure confidence. I love the way you complain about your hair but gently play with it while you're thinking. I love the look on your face when we're playing chess. I love the way you nag me about getting my work done and being more efficient during exam time… I love your eyes, Hermione. I love your hair, I love your smile… I love everything about you. I love the way you told me first you loved me, too. I love your stubborn will to make me a better person and make me say all of this out loud_.'

Hermione's eyes flooded with tears. The golden heart had turned into a necklace and she put it on instantly, touching it and staring at it. "Oh, Ron," she whispered.

Ginny was now crying. Her brother really surprised her sometimes. She stared at her gift and Hermione encouraged her through a hoarse voice, "Go on. Open it."

Ginny smiled sheepishly, putting her present on her lap. Hers was a small, square box. It looked like it held a notepad of some kind. She pulled the black ribbon off of it (smirking to herself all the while) and unwrapped the red paper. She opened the box and saw a piece of parchment, just like the ones on which the poems had been written, but it was red. She reached to open it but it flew out of her grasp before she could touch it.

It opened, sprinkling the girls with gold and scarlet sparks. Hermione smiled happily. "Is this what happened every time?"

"S-Something like it," she answered unsteadily. The sparks fused together and formed a very small model of a Quaffle. It dropped into her lap and she could see that there was a picture frame on one side of the Quaffle, in which it showed her and Harry on the field, nudging arms and punching shoulders.

Hermione grabbed the ball, examining it in awe. Ginny, however, saw that the piece of paper had begun to quiver slightly. It was now Harry's voice that filled the common room.

'_So many times I thought I held it in my hands_

_But just like grains of sand_

_Love slipped through my fingers_

_And so many nights I asked the Lord above_

_Please make me lucky enough_

_To find a love that lingers_

_Something keeps telling me that you could be_

_My answered prayer_

_You must be heaven sent I swear cause _

_Something happens when you look at me_

_I forget to speak_

_Something happens when you kiss my mouth_

_My knees get so weak_

_Could it be true that this is what is meant for me?_

_Because, Ginny I can't believe_

_That something like you could happen to me_

_It's something magical_

_Something spiritual_

_Something stronger than the two of us alone_

_Something physical_

_Something undeniable_

_Nothing like anything that I've ever known_.'

Ginny couldn't speak suddenly. She was staring at the poem as it floated back into her hands and all she could do was let tears pour down her cheeks. "Oh, Harry," she whispered.

She then noticed something she had not seen before. It was a smaller piece of paper with Harry's handwriting on it. 'I mean every word of it, J. I finally get to say I love you. What do I mean by that? You've always wanted to know what J means. Ask Hermione what the phrase _'je t'aime'_ means. You'll figure it out from there. Love - Me.'

Hermione looked over at the note and gasped. "Gin, that's not Latin, that's French," she said, smiling widely. "How long as he been calling you J?"

"Almost two years."

"Oh, and Gin, didn't you say that you've been in love with him for two years?"

"Yes. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything." She stared at the note, smiling. "I went to France the summer before third year so I studied hard to learn some French. Oh… Gin… _je t'aime_ is French for 'I love you.' "

Ginny's jaw dropped. "So-so for two years… two years he's been saying… oh my gosh. Hermione…"

The door to the common room burst open at that moment and Hermione was out of her seat before she had another second to think. She flung herself at Ron, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tightly. She lifted her head up and kissed him passionately. "Oh, Ron… Ron… oh…" she couldn't find words to speak. Her sobbing told the whole story. "It's so… it's just…"

Ron was watching her with a dreamy amusement. "Whenever you need to hear me say those words, you just put your hand around it," he told her, demonstrating with his hand clasped over hers. "And you say '_quietus_' or '_sonorous_' and the message will either whisper to you or yell at you."

She couldn't hold back another kiss for one more second. She reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out the black sachet she had been carrying the day before. She opened it and took Ron's left hand in her own. She sighed, looking into his eyes. She pulled out two gold rings and Ron's eyes widened.

"Oh, stop it," she said jokingly. "Let me explain." She took out the other ring, which matched Ron's but was much more feminine. She put it on her left hand. "It's called a Reflective Ring. These are just normal Muggle rings, but I charmed them with the Pensive Spell. Whenever you're in doubt, look at your ring and think of me. My ring will glow and then I'll think of you and yours will. Go ahead, try it out."

Ron did as he was told after having been shocked into silence. He closed his eyes and thought happily of her, and then when he opened his eyes, he saw that her ring was glowing blue, his brown. He frowned.

"Why are they these colors?" he wondered.

"That's another part of the Charm. You can make them any color you want. I charmed them to be the colors of our eyes… You said you loved my eyes and I've _always _loved yours."

Again, Ron was speechless. He took her in his arms and kissed her yet again, and whispered, "If it works the way I think it does, then this ring will always be brown."

Hermione burst into a fresh wave of tears.

Ginny had wandered toward the portrait hole, anxiously awaiting Harry's arrival. She thought he had been right behind Ron. Watching the happy pair exchange kisses and wonderful looks got to her after a while, and she stepped out of the common room. She wasn't sure where she was headed, but her journey ended after two steps.

"J?"

Ginny looked up and saw Harry standing right in front of her. There was a hopeful look on his face. All she wanted to do was throw her arms around him. She refrained.

"Happy Valentines Day," he whispered. Harry wasn't exactly sure what to do with himself. He looked behind her and then back into her eyes. "Did you get my poem?"

She nodded, not taking her eyes off of him for a second. They stood in silence. Ginny finally made herself move. She stepped closer to him and felt his breath quicken. She let her fingers slowly drift up and touch his face softly. He instinctively covered her hand with his. He brought it slowly to his lips and kissed her delicate fingers.

"Harry…"

He put a finger to her mouth gently and then let his hand move to her cheek. His thumb traced the curve of her lips as he bent his head in to kiss her. Before he made the contact, he whispered softly, "_Je t'aime_."


End file.
